After Adamant
by StrutLikeLucifer
Summary: Lavellan has the weight of Thedas on his shoulders, and the choice that he made in the Fade lingers over him. Despite being in recovery, Lavellan also needs to focus on his relationship with Dorian, who is struggling to cope with his own emotions. Meanwhile, Hawke is no longer safe in Skyhold, as Fenris has found out what he's been up to without him.
1. Chapter 1

The twisting miasma writhed around them, making his stomach turn. They'd been here too long. And now they were cut off from escape, even after having fought for their lives. Inquisitor Luvian Lavellan stared up at the monstrosity looming towards them, the Nightmare revealed at last, tightly gripping his staff for support as magic, adrenaline and no small amount of fear shuddered through him. This multi-eyed demon was by far the most terrifying thing he'd seen, and he'd faced down both Corypheus and his dragon. It seemed to be so large and wide that he couldn't fit the whole thing into his field of vision, and that alarmed him greatly. How was he supposed to fight something like that? For some reason, Keeper Istimaethoriel's warnings about the Fade unhelpfully flashed through his mind. _It's a bit late for that, Keeper._

He was distracted by a burning hand upon his shoulder, and the glowing form of Divine Justinia brushed past him. 'If you would, please tell Leliana, "I am sorry. I failed you, too."' As she rose up into the air, she began to glow brighter and brighter until Lavellan couldn't even look at her. Forced to shield his eyes from the flash of brilliance that followed, he only got a brief impression of what had happened; Divine Justinia rising and the Nightmare being forced backwards. When the light finally faded, neither the Nightmare or Divine Justinia were anywhere in sight, which was both a relief and sad. The Nightmare had been beaten back, but... _She's gone, now_. Lavellan realised. _She gave herself for us._

But the Aspect of the Nightmare had not been defeated, and Lavellan grit his teeth, glancing back at his companions. Dorian looked exhausted; being a mage like Lavellan, he could no doubt feel the pull of the Fade as strongly as the elf did, and fighting off the demons the Nightmare had sent after them didn't help with the sensation of being thinly spread. Dorian met Lavellan's gaze and, despite everything, managed a shaky but charming grin. _I'm getting you out of here,_ the elf promised silently. Lavellan could sense Cole behind him somewhere, sticking close and using the mage as an anchor to maintain his grip on himself. _Not long now, Cole. Almost there._ Stroud looked pale but determined, raising his sword in preparation. Varric glanced at Hawke, and Lavellan could see a silent agreement pass between them. Hawke's tired face broke out into a wry grin, and Varric shook his head with a half-smile.

Lavellan looked back the the Aspect, the six spider legs protruding from its spine twitching irritably. Though it had no eyes, it seemed to be glaring at the group, and for some reason that irritated Lavellan. He twirled his staff, narrowing his eyes as the fear left him, and felt the magical energy surge up from the well inside him. Let's do this.

He was halfway through casting his first spell when the Nightmare returned, slamming a leg between himself and the Aspect, making the floor shudder from the impact. Lavellan fell backwards in shock, and Stroud rushed forwards to help, but the Nightmare turned on him and Stroud disappeared into its giant maw. 'Stroud!' Lavellan cried out in horror. The Nightmare faced him, its multitudes of eyes trained on him, and thousands of those spider creatures came rushing out of the dark to engulf Lavellan, their chittering drowning out everything but the pain as he fell into an abyss of fangs and legs and...

* * *

Lavellan woke up, crying out in alarm as he writhed in the sheets that had twisted around him. His struggle caused him to fall off of the bed, and not surprisingly the abrupt cold and the feeling of his head hitting the stone floor was enough to shock him into some semblance of calm. He was safe, he was in Skyhold, and that's not how it had happened. He ran a hand over his face, sighing heavily. The dreams that had plagued him since receiving the Anchor had been fairly disturbing, but the ones he'd had since Adamant had been far worse, because they stemmed from real events.

He remembered what had actually happened, the choice he'd made. When facing the Nightmare, after having sent Dorian, Varric and Cole on ahead to the exit, he'd had to choose between Hawke and Stroud. One of them would have to stay to cover their retreat. _You were right. The Grey Wardens caused this. A Warden must help them rebuild_. _That's your job._ And then Lavellan had to choose. It had been a split second decision, one that would always have dire consequences no matter what he'd done, and three days after it had happened he was still conflicted. _'Stroud...'_ Lavellan had said sadly, but he hadn't been able to properly give the order. Stroud had understood though. _Inquisitor, it has been an honor._ Had it, though? _I just sent you to your death_.

Lavellan disentangled himself from the sheets, managing to stand and make his way over to the mirror. He didn't really need it to know that his hair was an absolute catastrophe. Green eyes gazed levelly back at him from the other side of the glass. Both Lavellan and his reflection sighed. Y _ou cannot change the past, da'len_. Istimaethoriel's voice reminded him. _I know, Hahren_ , Lavellan had always responded, but it didn't make him feel better now.

Corypheus still needs to be stopped, he told himself. Hawke hadn't left for Weisshaupt yet, so maybe he could give some last minute advice before he went. After all, he and Varric had killed Corypheus before. Besides... Lavellan grinned to himself as he brushed his deep scarlet hair back into something more presentable. There were still so many questions that he had about _The Tale of the Champion_ , and Hawke was a lot more blunt and sarcastic than Varric when it came to retelling his own adventures, which was fun to listen to. It might take his mind off of things, at any rate.

He also needed to see Dorian. No doubt he was seething in the library somewhere. After they'd returned to Skyhold, they'd barely seen each other - mostly because everyone was recovering from being in the Fade or just fighting at Adamant, but also because Lavellan was still the Inquisitor, whether he was recovering or not, and had had a lot of things to deal with in the wake of Adamant and the Grey Wardens joining them.

Oh Maker, the Grey Wardens. Lavellan groaned, tucking the left side of his hair behind a graceful, pointed ear. The right side of his hair remained covering his other ear - he was still torn between being self-conscious after being called "knife-ear" the first few days he'd been in Haven, and being proud that he was Dalish. Cassandra had not been happy about the Grey Wardens. Nor had poor Cole. Neither had Vivienne or Solas for that matter, but he didn't care so much about that. But he believed in second chances, and the Grey Wardens knew who their enemy truly was now. With Lavellan himself being stretched across the whole of Thedas, he needed more people equipped for fighting demons to defend the people.

Speaking of second chances, hopefully Dorian was in a forgiving mood.

* * *

'You have remarkably little here on early Tevinter history.' Uh oh. Dorian was idly browsing through the selection on the shelves, and didn't look at Lavellan as he approached. Dorian had, despite his current cool demeanor, a flashy and passionate personality, and the magic to match; Lavellan could sense Dorian's magic whirling around in a maelstrom of emotion, and that didn't bode well for the Inquisitor.

'All these "gifts" to the Inquisiton, and the best they can do is the Malefica Imperio? Trite propaganda.' The disgusted tone told Lavellan that Dorian was not only cross, but he was cross with him specifically, and now Lavellan had to find a way to make him smile again without irritating him further.

'But if you want twenty volumes on whether Divine Galatea took a shit on Sunday, this is evidently the place to find it.' Dorian tossed a book over his shoulder, and when Dorian didn't care about books, you were in trouble. _Creators help me. Or the Maker, whichever is listening._

'That's the Dorian I know: critiquing every book in my library.'

Well, it sort of worked; Dorian turned to face him and snapped, 'I wouldn't have to if you could find some rebellious heretic archivist to join the cause.'

'Are there rebellious archivists?' Lavellan asked, holding Dorian's glare. 'Other than you, that is?'

'If Corypheus starts burning masterworks of literature, I'm sure a few will pop up.' He was still angry, but his magic was in check now; Lavellan could sense the vortex quieting down into a softer, swirling pool as Dorian realised he was getting too worked up and too obviously emotional. Dorian didn't like it when people could read him.

Dorian changed the subject to distract himself. 'Did I see something by Genitivi here? I could have sworn...'

 _Well, tough._ After being yelled at over books, Lavellan wasn't about to let it go. 'What is this about, Dorian?' He'd tried to ask gently, but the words had a harder edge than he'd meant. But then sometimes, Dorian would only tell him what he was really feeling if Lavellan was blunt with him.

'When we fell into the chasm, into the Fade...' A flicker of pain crossed Dorian's face, making Lavellan's heart flinch, and finally his lover admitted, 'I thought you were done for.' _Dorian..._ Lavellan couldn't find the right words to express how that confession made him feel. For Dorian to admit his feelings like that showed an immense amount of trust, which Lavellan treasured jealously. But to think he'd made Dorian feel that way, even for a second, filled him with a nauseating guilt.

'I don't know if I can forgive you for that moment.' Dorian finished, sounding more like himself, though still upset.

'I'm sorry you had to go through it with me,' Lavellan finally managed. The Fade was awful even when you were dreaming, but to actually be there... The mages had felt sick from the excess of raw magic, the warriors and rogues had felt the pull of madness that comes with demon energy, and he couldn't even imagine what Cole had been going through.

'I'm not sorry I was there with you.' Dorian turned to face him again and their eyes met, grey on green. 'I thought I'd lost you.'

When Lavellan didn't reply, he shifted in irritation as he found himself having to explain further. 'You sent me ahead, and then didn't follow. For just a moment, I was certain you wouldn't.' Dorian kept looking at Lavellan, the Inquisitor, the man he loved. He looked no worse for wear after physically entering the Fade; his hair was tucked behind his left ear as usual, the dark, swirling tattoo trailing over and around his left eye, both of his green eyes lined with black. He looked pale, worried and tired though, and Dorian had heard a rumour that he was having nightmares again. He could guess what they were about. He'd had a few himself, mostly about Lavellan dying in the Fade.

'I thought: "This is it. This is where I finally lose him forever."' Dorian watched Lavellan's reaction, seeing the pain and concern dance across his face. Lavellan had never hidden anything from him, mostly because he was a poor liar anyway. But he seemed particularly exhausted today. 'Are you... all right?' He finally asked the elf. Of course, he wasn't just talking about whether he was tired or not, and Lavellan knew it.

'It was like walking in a nightmare, but everything was real.' Lavellan said slowly. 'I couldn't...' The elf broke eye contact, shutting his eyes to whatever image his memory had just conjured.

'Ah, it's as I thought.' Stroud... Lavellan had chosen, and was weighed down by his choice. Of course, Dorian couldn't say that. 'The Fade is an ordeal under normal circumstances.' He tried his best to sound like the authority on the subject. 'To be the only real thing there... beyond description.' They both knew that wasn't what Lavellan had been thinking of, but Dorian hadn't survived Tevinter this long by being tactless. 'That any of us made it out alive is difficult to believe. That you made it out? A miracle.'

Lavellan looked up at him again, his green eyes sad, and Dorian tried to keep his own emotions in check. 'You do realise that this feat hasn't been performed in over a thousand years? Corypheus and his contemporaries entered the Fade and began the Blights. In comparison...'

Lavellan wasn't going to be distracted. 'At least you were at my side.'

That finally got the smile the elf had been hoping for. Dorian gave a short chuckle, 'No offense, but I'd almost rather I hadn't been.'

Lavellan's mouth quirked up in one corner. 'No sense of adventure? That's surprising.'

'I've not your talent for survival, and not everyone is as discerning as I. If you can walk in the Fade, others will try to follow. Who knows what secrets Corypheus has revealed? Not all of them will be so lucky as you. What they could unleash...'

He had a point. If Corypheus had indeed seen "the throne of the gods", then there were so many questions that needed answering. And no doubt the Chantry or the Templars would like them to be answered. The sheer amount of philosophy being confirmed as fact or fiction was enough to make your head hurt, and what if someone found their way into the Fade and made something worse than the Blights?

Seeing Lavellan working it all out, Dorian put in, 'My advice? Keep this quiet, let them speculate. Too many will see this as a challenge.'

He was right, of course. 'That's a good idea.'

The relief on Dorian's face clashed harshly with the irritation that accompanied his next thought. 'There are too many idiots in the world who think if they just use enough blood magic, their problems will vanish. It's exactly the sort of thing I want to stop back home. This... This I don't need.'

He turned back to the bookshelf, quelling his irritation with a slowly-forming plan. 'What I do need is a copy of the Liberalum. I'll wager I can find Corypheus' real name. If I can prove he was a grasping ankle-biter with no family to speak of? The luster will come right off.' He glanced back at Lavellan with a wry smile. 'Wish me luck.'

'Good luck,' Lavellan smiled back briefly, but for some reason the way he said it made it sound like "good bye", and Lavellan found that he couldn't bear the thought of that. ' _Ar lath ma_ ,' he blurted, surprised at his own outburst. Why had he said that? He'd said it before, once or twice, after he and Dorian had spent the night together and he was tired and not paying attention. But now he was fully conscious, and he'd said it anyway. Dorian shot him a quizzical look, and Lavellan remembered that Dorian didn't speak elvish. Feeling foolish, he turned to go, but Dorian's curiosity had been piqued.

'Hold on a moment. What did you say?'

'Nothing.'

'You, Inquisitor Lavellan, are a terrible liar. I insist that you tell me what you said.'

'It's nothing,' Lavellan tried not to blush. He'd never really thought about not blushing before, but he wasn't sure it helped. Normally it just made the tips of his ears go pink. 'You know I lapse into elvish sometimes when I'm tired.'

Dorian peered at him suspiciously. 'You seem wide awake to me.'

'I need to speak to Hawke before he leaves,' Lavellan said, firmly changing the subject. 'I have some questions about _The Tale of the Champion_ that I think Varric will anwer vaguely. I'll speak to you later.' He added the last promise quickly, so as not to offend him. Dorian was still watching him closely as he turned to go.

'I need to find an elvish to common tongue translator...' He heard Dorian mutter to himself as he left the library, and Lavellan hoped fervently that there was no such text _anywhere_ in Thedas.


	2. Chapter 2

Hawke was quite a tall man; he was pretty much the same height as Dorian, which made him taller than Lavellan. That was mildly irritating. He was also quite attractive, in that rugged hero kind of way - the dark hair and thick beard, coupled with warm brown eyes and the dash of red across his nose made him look quite handsome, and Lavellan knew that if he told Dorian that then he'd be jealous for weeks. Garrett Hawke had been a hero of Lavellan's for quite a while - ever since one of the traders had brought _The Tale of the Champion_ to Clan Lavellan's camp. Prior to that, they had of course heard about some of the events in Kirkwall, but none of it had seemed real until Lavellan had read the book. Even now, looking at Hawke in the flesh, Lavellan realised Varric actually hadn't exaggerated his friend's appearance; Hawke looked like he was always on the verge of laughing, but when he spoke to his friends or people he respected, there was a seriousness behind the smile that assured you that he understood, and he was on your side. And you wanted someone like Hawke on your side.

Hawke was the reason that Lavellan had volunteered to go to the Conclave - if this mage can do it, why can't I? The Keeper had been torn between giving up her First and spying on a meeting that could potentially change the future of all elves, not just their clan. Lavellan had argued that young Hugan had just come into his magic and would need training, so if he didn't come back then the Keeper would still have a first. Istimaethoriel had not been impressed, but had relented.

'Need something?' Hawke asked cheerfully as Lavellan approached. There was no hint of accusation in his words. 'Somebody always needs something. It's always "Hawke do this" and "Hawke kill that".'

'Well, I actually just wanted to talk,' Lavellan said softly, and Hawke beamed at him. Varric stood at his side, folding his arms.

'How are you feeling, your Inquisitorialness?' the dwarf asked, half-joking, half-serious. 'You took quite a beating at Adamant.'

'From what I've heard, that's the second time you've nearly been blown up by that archdemon,' Hawke chuckled. 'I think it likes you.'

'I'd rather it didn't exist,' Lavellan's mouth quirked up, and Hawke grinned.

'That's how I feel about a lot of things. Unfortunately I'm known as the Champion now, so duty calls.'

This was something that Lavellan understood all too well. Being the First to the Keeper, and then being the Herald, and now the Inquisitor... He had never asked to be a mage, but everything seemed to have tumbled on from that starting point. Still, he had accepted the role of Inquisitor, because there had been no-one else to do it... Much like Hawke, he supposed.

'What did you want to talk about?' Hawke asked.

'Well, when did you plan to leave for Weisshaupt? I had some questions about your, uh, story.'

' _The Tale of the Champion_?' Hawke raised an eyebrow at Varric. 'You know, I've only had time to read parts of it. Is any of it accurate, or did you make half of it up?'

'Hawke, please. I am a storyteller. The best stories are mostly true, with a sprinkling of embellishment.'

'Well, good thing you have come to me then, I'm too blunt to be a liar.' Hawke propped himself up against a wall. 'In answer to your first question though, I was going to leave tomorrow. I've recovered from our run through the Fade, and I'm all packed up for the journey.'

'Oh, right,' Lavellan looked away uncertainly. 'You'll probably want to rest before your journey then, I suppose?'

'Are you joking?' Hawke scoffed. 'I've been resting for three days. It's exhausting. Let's go somewhere for a drink, shall we?'

* * *

It had started raining heavily outside. Rain in the mountains is an impressive sight to behold; this close to the sky, the air around someone will crackle with the pure elemental energy that accompanies a storm. For this particular storm, the wind completely died, meaning the rain that fell seemed to almost be a completely solid wall of water. The ground smelt fresh and heavy with moisture, and though the rain was icy the air was warm and cloying. Skyhold was not deterred by the weather, and stood resolutely against the lashing rain and occasional flash of lightning, followed by a deep rumble of thunder. This was a normal occurrence for the beginnings of winter in the mountains.

One thing that wasn't a normal occurrence was the lone figure slowly making its way across the mountain range. Wrapped tightly in a cloak that was already soaked through, the slender figure pushed doggedly on towards the lights in the distance that belonged to the massive fortress. The figure was still a few miles away, and carried nothing but the long sword strapped to their back, but even so they were weighed down by exhaustion. The figure struggled on regardless, forging a slow and unsteady path towards Skyhold, which sat waiting and silent upon its peak. They could rest after the Champion was dead.

* * *

'So,' Hawke smirked over his second pint. 'What did you want to know?'

Lavellan thought for a long moment. Now that it came down to it, he had too many questions at once. 'I've already briefly asked you about Anders.'

'Yes,' Hawke sighed. 'I have no idea where he is now, if that's what you're wondering. We parted ways, as was bound to happen. Honestly, after what he did, he's lucky I didn't kill him.' Hawke sighed again, and for the first time he looked tired, both emotionally and physically.

'You're secretly a nice guy under that sarcastic exterior,' Varric tried to smile, but he looked drawn as well. 'Blondie always had a penchant for trouble, kind of like Hawke. Difference was, Hawke would face his problems head on, whilst Anders...'

'Anders was more the trick-you-into-helping-him-blow-up-the-Chantry type of guy,' Hawke shook his head. 'I thought of him as a friend. In the end, he betrayed that. But I couldn't kill him, when it came down to it. After everything he'd done, after the things Justice had made him do, I still couldn't kill him.' He took a swig of his drink. 'You know, I think he fancied me at one point, what with me being a mage and also coming to his rescue. Drove Fenris wild.'

Varric snorted. 'There you go again. You think you're such a lady-killer, or man-killer in this case.' He frowned, not pleased with his wording. 'Actually, no, that makes you just sound like a murderer.'

'So...' Lavellan was curious, but didn't want to seem rude. 'You like...?'

'Both men and women?' Hawke grinned. 'Of course. Why not both?'

'I feel the same way,' Lavellan laughed nervously, not quite sure why he was saying this. But to have something in common with Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, even just his sexuality, well... He felt like a kid again, finding out his hero had the same interests as he did.

'Good man,' Hawke raised his glass. 'You, serah, have good taste.' He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, waggling his eyebrows. 'Especially where a certain mage is concerned.'

Lavellan glanced at Varric, who shrugged. 'I didn't need to tell him anything. Hawke's not blind.'

'Is it that obvious?' Lavellan blushed despite himself; most of his friends knew, so he had no reason to be embarrassed. And he had no intention of changing his feelings for Dorian - they were quite firmly set in place.

'The way you two look at each other?' Hawke gave a low whistle. 'You two need to be careful. You're both mages, so there's an actual risk of setting things on fire.'

'Well, what about you and Fenris?' Lavellan challenged, grinning now. 'Varric can't go into detail in the book, but he has lyrium on his skin, doesn't he? Isn't there a risk there?'

'Different kind of risk, with that one,' Varric shook his head. 'And you don't want me to go into detail, trust me. The noise they make...'

'Hey!' Hawke laughed. 'Don't make personal remarks, Varric. There's nothing wrong with enjoying yourself.'

'Ir abelas,' Lavellan chuckled. 'It's none of my business.'

'Tel'abelas,' Hawke snorted, taking Lavellan by surprise.

'You speak elven?'

'What did you say?' Varric asked, sitting up.

'I said "I'm not sorry",' Hawke winked at his friend, before looking back at the Inquisitor. 'Merrill taught me some.'

'Oh, of course. Merrill is from the Sabrae clan, isn't she?'

'That's right,' Hawke smiled. 'She dabbles in a bit too much blood magic for my liking, but she's a loyal friend and I trust her.'

'Blood magic?' Lavellan frowned. He didn't like the thought of that. 'Is that... a good idea?'

'Of course not,' Hawke snorted. 'Is it ok to summon a demon to help you? Yeah, sure, let's invite them all in!'

'Daisy's alright,' Varric chuckled. 'She's got no sense of direction though. And she's never done anything to hurt us.'

'Strange that Anders was a healer, and Merrill a blood mage, and yet Anders was the one to betray you.' Lavellan mused, before realising what he said. 'I apologise, I meant no offense.'

Hawke pondered it himself. 'Yes, I can see how it's strange. But everything Merrill does, she does for her clan and for her friends. Everything Anders did was partly guided by Justice.' He grimaced. 'Looking back, it's hard to tell now how much of it was Anders and how much of it was that demon in his head.'

There was a long silence as both Hawke and Varric delved into their own thoughts, and Lavellan wracked his brain trying to think of something else to talk about. 'Uh, why does everyone have a nickname but you?'

Hawke looked up. 'You mean Varric's nicknames? You even do that here?'

Varric grinned. 'Everywhere I go. But I never really found one that fit Hawke. Hawke is just Hawke.' He glanced at the human beside him. 'Want to hear the nicknames I use for the Inquisitor's lot?'

'Yes. But only so I can use them myself when no-one's listening.'

* * *

Skyhold was closer now. The wind had picked up, driving the rain into the ground at an angle. The wind was just as cold as the rain, and the thunder was so loud that it made the ground shudder. The figure picked its way over the rocks, scrabbling for a decent foothold. Just a mile more, and they'd be at the gate. At their current pace, the remainder of the journey would take just over an hour. That was achievable. Just hold on an hour longer, and then... _He'd better still be there_.

* * *

'You're not serious!' Lavellan cried, his eyes wide with amazement.

'I'm very serious,' Varric insisted. 'So Isabela's got us down to our small clothes, and neither Hawke nor I are going down without a fight.'

' _Varric_ ,' Hawke blushed from underneath the palm he'd covered his eyes with.

'Anders has already fled by this point; as soon as she took his staff and his robe, he took the coward's path and bailed. Aveline doesn't get involved, being the Guard Captain and all, and Merrill knows that she always loses to Isabela. Fenris is busy brooding and drinking, so he's not going to help. So Hawke and I are the only ones really going all out in this battle.'

Lavellan nearly choked on his drink because he was laughing so much, and Hawke was groaning into his hands. Although there was barely anyone left in the Great Hall, the ones who were still milling about were peering with interest at the little group in the corner. The rain pounded against the walls of the Hall, but next to Varric's fireplace the three were comfortable and warm.

'So, now it's down to the last round. And Isabela has us cornered. Neither one of us has any moves left. So do you know what Hawke does?' Varric's voice had dropped to a dramatic whisper, and despite himself Lavellan leaned in, grinning.

'What did he do?' He glanced at the human, who was smiling in anticipation.

'I'm about to go down,' Varric gestured expansively. 'Isabela's on to me, and she wants everything I have left. I'm a man of my word; a loss is a loss. Just as all hope has dwindled, and I'm about to be humiliated in front of everyone, the Champion of Kirkwall stands.'

Varric himself stood, striking a heroic pose. '"No, Varric!"' Varric cried. '"You will not lose to this pirate, not while I'm here. There is no need for you to suffer any longer!" And then...' Varric paused, and even Hawke was watching him intently now, despite knowing what was coming next. 'He rips off his small clothes and bares himself for the whole of the Hanged Man to see!' Varric declared, and both he and Lavellan howled with laughter whilst Hawke tried to hide under his hands.

'My hero!' Varric raised his mug, and narrowly dodged a swipe from Hawke. 'To the Champion!'

'To the Champion!' Lavellan raised his own and Hawke, red in the face, waved them both away.

'I was drunk,' Hawke argued, mock-glaring at Varric.

'You weren't that drunk,' Varric winked at him.

'Inquisitor,' someone called, and one of the guards from the gate entered, dripping wet from the storm. Lavellan stood to greet him, still smiling.

'What is it?'

'I'm sorry to interrupt, my lord,' the soldier said, standing to attention. 'But there's someone at the gate demanding entry.'

The smile faded from his face, and flashes of the siege at Adamant returned to him. An agent of Corypheus? Or was he just being paranoid? 'Who is it?'

'He will not tell us. But I think he will break down the gate if you don't come and -'

'It could be a trap,' Cullen cut in, making them all jump. He had just come out of the war room and into the Great Hall, so he had heard the soldier's report. Lavellan greeted him with a nod, acknowledging his point. 'This stranger should declare himself, otherwise he will not be permitted into-'

A cry of pain from outside distracted them; it had been loud enough to be heard over the storm. It was followed by another, and another. Lavellan glanced at Hawke and Varric, who grabbed Bianca. Despite not having his staff to hand, Lavellan knew he could do enough damage without it. He headed towards the door, with Hawke, Varrice, Cullen and the soldier hot on his heels.

They didn't get far; a figure appeared in the doorway of the Great Hall, shrouded in a black cloak and soaked through to the bone. In its hands was a long sword, and as the figure padded forwards they could see it was barefoot and bleeding. The figure staggered forwards and dropped its sword, shaking hands in steel gauntlets going to the hood. He needn't have bothered; Hawke and Varric already knew exactly who he was.

'Fenris?' Hawke gasped, stepping out from behind Lavellan.

'Maker's Breath, elf, what happened?' Varric asked, and the figure's hands dropped to his sides.

'Hawke...' Fenris managed, his strength finally leaving him. 'Finally...' His legs gave out and he dropped to his knees, but before he could crash to the floor Hawke was at his side, catching him effortlessly. Hawke pulled back the hood to reveal the unconscious elf's face, and breathed in sharply through his teeth at his lover's pale face and hoarse breathing.

'Inquisitor,' Hawke looked up at him. 'A bed, quickly. I need to heal him.'

'He can have mine,' Lavellan blurted. 'This way, hurry.'

The rest of what happened was just a blur of movement and anxious questions. He led them upstairs, with Hawke carrying the shivering form of Fenris and Varric bringing up the rear. Cullen had gone to tell the other advisers what had happened. Upon entering his quarters, Hawke went straight to the bed and gently laid the elf down amongst the covers. 'Do you have any spare clothes?' Hawke asked over his shoulder, carefully undoing Fenris' armour and handing the pieces to Varric. 'He needs to get out of these ones as quickly as possible.'

'Yes, of course!' Lavellan leapt to it, fetching spare trousers and a shirt that would probably fit Fenris, whilst Hawke undressed him and began to dry him off with the towel Varric handed him.

'His feet are bleeding,' Varric said, too shocked to remark on anything past the obvious. 'How far did he walk?'

Lavellan respectfully averted his eyes as he handed Hawke the dry clothes. It didn't seem right that upon seeing Fenris, _the_ Fenris, for the first time, he should be vulnerable and exposed like this. He wasn't for long, of course; Hawke quickly got him dressed and was now moving a hand back and forth over his body, channeling magical energy into him to heal his wounds.

Lavellan watched with awe at the tender care that Hawke took when ministering to the elf; the way he gently brushed back his wet hair to dab at his forehead with a cloth, the way he carefully washed his feet clean before sealing the cuts with magic, the way he quietly murmured words of comfort despite them falling on deaf ears.

Underneath the clothes Lavellan had provided, lines of lyrium light up wherever Hawke's hand hovered over them, the raw magic reacting to Hawke's healing touch. Fenris gave a small cry of pain and his eyes snapped open abruptly, his hand lashing out and catching Hawke's wrist.

'No, please,' he gasped, before seeing who it was. 'Garrett?'

'I'm here,' Hawke smiled, and a lump formed in Lavellan's throat at the unconditional love in Hawke's eyes. _Is that how Dorian looks at me, when I'm not looking? Is that how I look at him? I wouldn't know._

Fenris immediately relaxed, releasing the man's wrist and sagging back into the bed. 'I found you.' He sighed, closing his eyes again. 'Don't leave me again.'

A flicker of guilt crossed Hawke's face, and for just a moment he almost looked like he was going to cry. But it was gone as soon as it appeared, so quickly that Lavellan wasn't even sure that he'd actually seen it. 'Even if I did, you'd just follow me again.' Hawke smirked, and Fenris breathed a brief chuckle before passing out again.

And so the long wait began, whilst Hawke healed Fenris and Lavellan and Varric kept watch, wondering how Fenris had even found Skyhold, let alone how he'd gotten here ('He can't have walked all the way from the Free Marches, can he?' Varric had whispered as the first few threads of dawn had crept across the sky). Lavellan was occupied with thoughts of his own, and most of them revolved around Dorian.


	3. Chapter 3

'How does that work, exactly? ...You don't even know, do you? You just wiggle your fingers and boom, rift closes.'

Everything about this man screamed nobility; the immaculate haircut and carefully groomed mustache, the white robe over grey armor, with the collar turned up to either protect his neck from the cold or make him look more dashing, it wasn't clear. And he _was_ dashing; the words that came to mind when looking at this human were "pretty", "charming" and "handsome rogue". Lavellan felt untidy and dirty.

His first question didn't really help the situation. 'Who are you?' he asked, but he sounded like a savage compared to this articulate man.

'Dorian of House Pavus, most recently of Minrathous. How do you do?'

'Another Tevinter.' Cassandra snorted. 'Be cautious with this one.'

Tevinter? Now Lavellan was conflicted. He knew of the plight of the elves in Tevinter, and if this man was indeed a Tevinter noble then he probably had slaves of his own. What did he see when he looked at Lavellan? A mage and the Herald of Andraste? Or a slave who was reaching above his station?

Dorian of House Pavus had cleared it up pretty quickly. 'Suspicious friends you have here.' He remarked, and the tone of his voice implied he was mildly amused/annoyed by Cassandra's assumption about his character. So he didn't associate with that type of Tevinter? But, just to confirm...

'Are you a magister?'

'All right, let's say this once.' Dorian Pavus sounded tired, like he'd been asked this question too many times. 'I'm a mage from Tevinter, but not a member of the Magisterium. I know southerners use the terms interchangeably, but that just makes you sound like barbarians.'

 _Barbarians, are we...?_

Dorian hadn't even known his name then. It had taken him three months to learn it. He hadn't known a single thing about the Dalish elf who had received his note, and Lavellan had enjoyed infuriating him with the mysteries of the Herald of Andraste. But Dorian was a man who liked a challenge.

 _Ar lath, Dorian..._

* * *

'Lavellan? ...Lavellan?'

Lavellan woke with a start, lifting his head slightly from the book it had been resting on. He was slumped across one of the tables in the library, a book on Tevinter culture splayed on the surface, being misused as a pillow. He'd left his own quarters after dawn had broken, and thoughts of Dorian had brought him to the library. Of course, the mage hadn't been here, but Lavellan had instead picked out the first book on Tevinter that he'd found and had started reading it. Anything to occupy his whirling mind, and to block out thoughts of... Stroud.

He'd been dreaming of the Fade again, but not the lucid dreams of a mage. He'd been dreaming about what he'd learned, and what had occurred in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. _Was it all for nothing then?_

Dorian hovered at his side, looking down at him with concern. 'That's the only copy in this library, you know.' Ah. No concern for him then, just for the book. Typical Dorian.

'Sorry,' Lavellan yawned, even though it was really his book, being the Inquisitor and all. He gently massaged his ear tip to tease the numbness out of it. 'I fell asleep reading.'

'Why are you here so early?' Dorian asked, before his lips twitched into a smile. 'Did you miss me that much?'

'Yes,' Lavellan blurted, before collecting himself. 'And I've been here since dawn. Fenris and Hawke are using my room.'

' _Who_ is using your room?'

Lavellan briefly explained last night's events, leading on to Fenris sleeping in Lavellan's bed whilst Hawke stayed up healing him and making sure he was alright. Varric had fallen asleep on the sofa, and Lavellan had gotten restless and gone wandering, finding himself in the library.

'So this fellow just walked into Skyhold, in the middle of a storm, and took your bed? And you _let_ him?'

'He came all the way from the Free Marches, as well as we can gather, mostly on foot. Just to see Hawke. Of course I let him use my bed.'

'You are far more courteous than I,' Dorian sniffed. 'Sleeping on tables doesn't exactly seem to be preferable to a bed.'

'In fact,' Lavellan continued, not really paying attention. 'He should be fully healed now. Shall we go and see him?'

'Do you think that's wise?' Dorian said mildly, and Lavellan looked back at him, confused. 'I am from Tevinter?' he reminded the elf. 'You know, I'm the big bad magister that takes away your elven children?'

'You don't do that,' Lavellan scoffed, but he wasn't sure how Fenris would take it. Though he himself was an elf, and had been looked down on for it, Lavellan had never been a slave. 'Well, it's up to you then. I'd like you to come with me, but you don't have to.'

'Oh, all right. When you put it like that, I suppose I _have_ to come with you. And at least I can sort your hair out along the way - somehow you've got bed hair without actually sleeping in a bed.'

* * *

The lyrium pulsed along his skin. Fenris felt like he was on fire, but also being continuously drenched in ice cold water. He couldn't stop shivering. It felt as though someone had taken a hammer to the inside of his head, and refused to stop attacking his skull until they had dented the pattern of the Viscount's seal into the bone. Where was Hawke? He wanted Hawke.

As if summoned by the thought, there came the light, warm, syrupy feeling of Hawke's healing magic; his magic always had a strange, almost liquid quality, moving fluidly over his body and cascading down his limbs to the tips of his fingers and toes. Where the magic touched, the lyrium reacted, but instead of hurting, the burn was cooled to a consistent pulsing of energy.

Fenris dreamed.

He was standing on Hawke's doorstep, hand raised to knock but not quite making contact with the door. He teetered on the edge of the stone, the hunter's poison coursing through his blood and making it difficult to think, difficult to breathe. They'd caught him along the Wounded Coast, and he hadn't been ready for them. Like a damned fool, he'd let his guard down for a moment, and they'd ambushed him. There had been too many to fight, so he had to run - but not before one of them managed to get an arrow into his shoulder.

Without thinking, fuelled by fear and adrenaline, Fenris had ripped the arrow out, and had bled badly all the way back to the city. They would poison their arrows, of course. He assumed it wasn't lethal, because no doubt Danarius wanted to witness his death in person, but he had no real way of knowing. Regardless, if the poison slowed him down enough to get caught, then it really would be lethal.

His arm dropped to his side, too heavy for him to hold up anymore. He leaned forwards to rest against the door, but his movements were uncoordinated now and he slumped against it instead with a heavy thud. He could hear running feet in the distance, the pounding of boots on stone, and knew that he was going to get caught. It was inevitable now.

The door opened, and Fenris fell backwards into the darkness of Hawke's foyer. He landed at the feet of the man himself, who was horrified to see him there.

'Fenris? What happened?' He crouched at the elf's side, gently brushing strands of white hair out of his eyes. Seeing that Fenris was still conscious, Hawke tried again, a sense of urgency in his voice now. 'Fenris, talk to me, say something.'

'Hunters...' Fenris managed, coughing out the word. '...P-poison...' Everything was a bit fuzzy. Maybe it was lethal after all.

Hawke wasted no time. No glib remark, no witty one-liner. He stood and the air around him began to change, rippling and twisting as Hawke's magic came alive. Bodahn, Hawke's dwarven servant, came out into the foyer timidly, having been woken by the noise.

'Is everything all right, messere?' Bodahn inquired, before spotting Fenris. 'Is that...?'

'Get him inside, Bodahn,' Hawke said quietly. The hunters were getting closer. 'I'm in the mood for roasted slaver.' Fire licked his fingertips, and the air crackled with a fierce energy that made the hairs on the back of Fenris' neck prickle. The world around Fenris began to go dark, the the last image he saw was the silhouette of Hawke standing in the doorway, protecting him from harm and hurling fire and lightning out into the dark.

* * *

Fenris opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the light. He was lying in a large bed, with soft coverings and a firm mattress. Varric was nowhere to be seen, although Fenris could have sworn that he'd been there last night. Or had he imagined that? Slumped in an armchair nearby and snoring gently was Hawke, who looked exhausted. The sight made Fenris' heart thud heavily against his rib cage; _he hasn't left me. And he's not in the Fade_.

Fenris had been visiting Kirkwall on his travels across the Free Marches, on his way back from the Tevinter border, and had stopped in at the Hanged Man. There he'd heard something that made him feel sick; _did you hear? The Champion went into the Fade! What, actually in it? Physically? Yes! He went in with the Inquisitor and some Grey Warden. I heard one of them didn't make it out though_. _One of them didn't make it out? Did the Champion not make it out?_

Fenris had left his drink behind, sprinted up to his mansion in Hightown, gathered up his things and had left Kirkwall the very same night.

'I told him not to go,' Fenris had repeated to himself over and over through gritted teeth. 'I told him to not do anything reckless. I told him to wait for me to join him before he tried to do something that could get him killed. But did Hawke listen? Of course not.' Anyone who might have overheard this and didn't know Fenris would assume that he was very angry, and that he was probably going to kill Hawke himself. And whilst this was fairly accurate, anyone who _did_ know Fenris would have also heard the translation; _Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead_.

'Hawke,' Fenris called out gently, and the mage stirred in his chair. He blinked once, twice, and then remembered where he was.

'Fenris,' Hawke blurted, sitting upright in panic. When he saw that the elf was conscious, he relaxed again. 'How are you feeling?'

'My feet hurt, but other than that I am well.'

'Let me have a look,' Hawke said, moving to sit on the end of the bed. He carefully unwrapped the bandages on Fenris' feet, revealing the multiple cuts, bruises and blisters. He'd managed to heal most of Fenris' wounds and ailments last night, but had run out of mana somewhere around sunrise. 'What were you thinking?'

'I was thinking that you might have been lost in the Fade, or dead, or worse.' Fenris looked away. He was angry, but not at Hawke. All right, partly at Hawke. But mostly at himself. 'I thought you had gone somewhere that I could not follow.'

'Please,' Hawke snorted, gently pressing a wet cloth to Fenris' feet to clean the wounds again. 'If I'd done that, you would have killed me.'

'No matter where you hid, you would not have been safe from me,' Fenris agreed, looking back at Hawke now. The man was smiling at him, his eyes crinkled in the corners, and Fenris felt the blood rush to his cheeks. 'What?' he demanded.

'I'm just glad to see you.'

That didn't help. Fenris looked away again, feeling foolish for blushing. 'Yes, well, someone had to remind you to not do stupid things like walk into the Fade.'

'Well, we didn't walk exactly. We sort of fell in. It was less heroic, more oh-Maker-no-we're-going-to-be-eaten-by-an-archdemon-THUMP.'

Fenris snorted, and Hawke grinned. If he'd made Fenris almost laugh, then it was a victory; the elf was looking calmer now, and his temperature had gone down, which was probably helping to improve his mood.

There came a knock at the door, and a Dalish elf entered, closely followed by a human. Fenris knew that this elf was the Inquisitor, but he was still mildly surprised; that these humans and dwarves would follow and elf who looked slightly younger than Fenris himself was very interesting. The elf's hair was a deep scarlet, and the left side was tucked behind his ear. His vallaslin was focused around his left eye in an intricate, swirling pattern.

'Inquisitor,' Hawke grinned. 'Sorry for taking up your room.'

'It's no trouble,' the Inquisitor said politely, and turned to look at Fenris. ' _Andaran atish'an_ , Fenris. I hope you're feeling better?'

'I am.' He kept his thoughts of _typical Dalish elf_ to himself. Catching Hawke's glance, he added, 'Thank you.'

'Good, I'm glad to hear it.' The Inquisitor smiled. 'You gave us quite a scare last night.'

'I apologise for arriving in that manner,' Fenris frowned. 'I was... desperate.' His eyes slid over to the man standing just behind the elf. The way he was dressed implied he was a mage, but the style also looked... familiar. His skin began to prickle uncomfortably.

'I understand,' the Inquisitor nodded. He noticed Fenris' gaze, and added, 'This is Dorian. He was with Hawke and I in the Fade.'

'Dorian of House Pavus,' the man introduced himself with a flourishing gesture. 'A pleasure to make your acquaintance.'

 _Pavus_. Fenris remembered that name, though this man was not the same person he was thinking of. His eyes narrowed. 'Related to _Magister_ Pavus?'

Lavellan heard Dorian gulp. 'Ah, yes. He's... my father.'

Fenris sat up, and both Hawke and Lavellan reacted. Lavellan moved between Fenris and Dorian, so if the elf decided to lunge he'd have an obstacle. Hawke took a gentler approach; he leaned forwards, slowly and deliberately, and placed a hand on Fenris' shoulder. For a split second, the lyrium on Fenris' skin flared to life, but one look at Hawke made it subside again.

'All I did was sit up,' Fenris grumbled, adjusting his position and propping himself up with cushions. Hawke helped him to arrange them, and then sank back into the armchair. Fenris turned his gaze back to Dorian, despite Lavellan having placed himself firmly between them. 'Your father is a blood mage.'

Lavellan didn't see Dorian flinch, but he felt it. 'The way I hear it, you think all mages are blood mages.'

Fenris shook his head. 'No. Hawke is a Spirit Healer, with a knack for elemental magic. Your Inquisitor is a mage, though I do not know what kind. Merrill is a blood mage. Anders is a mage with a demon in his head.' He locked eyes with Dorian. 'My former master was a blood mage. And so is your father.'

Lavellan felt Dorian move forwards, and he whirled around quicker than thought, catching Dorian's arm. 'Dorian, it's...'

'Let go,' Dorian hissed. 'I don't need you to _protect_ me.' The venom in his voice startled Lavellan, and he let go, surprised and hurt.

Dorian marched forwards until he was standing next to Fenris, who regarded him coolly. 'I don't seem to remember you,' Dorian said in a smooth voice. 'So we can't possibly have met. Therefore, you haven't met my father, and you don't know him.'

'I have.' Fenris' eyes bored into the mage's. 'Your father came to Danarius in order to learn a blood magic ritual.' His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as Dorian looked at him in shock.

'I poured his wine.'


	4. Chapter 4

'Dorian,' Lavellan called after the retreating figure. But the man turned the corner, disappearing out of his sight. Lavellan slowed, drawing his pursuit to an end. If he didn't want to talk, then he didn't want to talk. Lavellan couldn't force Dorian to discuss what he was thinking or feeling; growing up in Tevinter had conditioned him to hide everything away. Even from Lavellan.

Lavellan slammed a fist against a wall, and immediately regretted it. 'Ouch.' _Skyhold one, Inquisitor zero_. Frustrated, Lavellan went to find Josephine, having already promised Hawke that he'd sort out some proper living arrangements now that Fenris was feeling well enough to move. He'd soon have his room back.

Josephine was sat at her desk, busy checking the Inquisition's inventory of medical supplies. Lavellan walked in without knocking, too irritated to notice what he'd done. She looked up at him in surprise as he approached; the Inquisitor was not, by nature, an aggressive man, so to see him annoyed or angry was a rare thing.

'Inquisitor,' she watched his face carefully. 'Is there something I can help you with?'

'Uh, yes, please,' Lavellan ran a hand down his face, trying to concentrate. 'Fenris is feeling well enough to leave my room, so would you please make sure there are some quarters big enough for both him and Hawke to live in? For as long as they're here.'

'That can certainly be arranged,' she smiled, but something was still wrong. 'Did something happen?'

'What? No,' Lavellan sighed. _You, Inquisitor Lavellan, are a terrible liar._ 'It's nothing.'

Josephine frowned now. 'If something has occurred, I would like to think we are close enough as friends to talk about it.' Her smile came back, small but encouraging. 'After all, you did save my life. It is the least I can do to just listen.'

'It's...' He couldn't say "nothing" again, because she was right, they were friends, and she knew when he was upset. 'It's Dorian.'

She nodded sagely. 'I thought it might be. Is it to do with the letter he received?'

'Letter?' Lavellan blinked. 'Dorian won't talk to me because of something Fenris said. What letter?'

'What did Fenris say?' Josephine asked quickly, leaning on her elbows. 'I've read Varric's book, of course, and I imagine he's quite intense in person.'

'Fenris called Dorian's father a blood mage, because he once visited Magister Danarius to learn a blood magic ritual.' Lavellan narrowed his eyes at her. 'What letter, Josephine?'

She looked uncomfortable now. 'I assumed he would have told you about it. I apologise, it is none of my business.'

'Josephine, please.'

She sighed and met Lavellan's gaze. 'I did not intend to read it, but Mother Giselle warned Leliana that Tevinter magisters and Venatori might be sending messages to Dorian. So, Leliana opens all letters addressed to him.'

There was silence for a few stunned seconds as the Inquisitor fully processed what he'd just heard.

' _Dorian is not the enemy_ ,' Lavellan exploded, and Josephine flinched. Feeling guilty, he pressed his fingers to his temples. 'I'm sorry Josephine. I...'

'It is all right, Inquisitor,' she said quietly. 'And I know as well as you that Dorian is one of us. Leliana only opens the letters addressed to him to prove that to Mother Giselle. If she sees that there is nothing to fear, she will stop being afraid.'

'I see.' He didn't, not really. It made his head hurt. Mother Giselle should have known by now that it is not someone's birthplace that defines them; he was the prime example of that. 'Well, what was it then? Who was it from?'

'It was...' She hesitated, just long enough for him to feel his heart sink into his toes. 'I... I think perhaps Dorian should tell you himself.'

Lavellan met her gaze, and she sighed. His eyes said enough. 'Very well. The letter was addressed to him by Magister Raphaela Senopianus, Former Apprentice to Magister Athanir Tilani.' She dipped her quill into the ink pot. 'Apparently she has only recently risen to the rank of Magister, and is demanding to meet with him.' She returned to filling in the inventory. 'That is all I can say, I am afraid.'

'Thank you, Josephine,' Lavellan bowed shortly to her, and then turned on his heel to go. He was pretty sure he didn't have the full picture, so he needed to find Dorian.

* * *

He wasn't in the library. For a moment, Lavellan was genuinely at a loss. _He's always in the library._ But of course, Dorian had a bedroom, which was the second most likely place to find him. And if not, then he'd search the whole of Skyhold if he had to...

'Inquisitor,' said a voice behind him, and he turned to see Hawke, looking sheepish. 'You're looking for Dorian too, huh?'

'Why are you looking for him?' Lavellan asked in surprise.

'I came to apologise on Fenris' behalf,' Hawke shrugged. 'I mean, I understand Fenris' point of view, and I hate blood magic and slavers as much as the next man, but you don't take it out on a stranger just because he's _related_ to a blood mage.'

'Dorian's father _isn't_ a blood mage,' Lavellan snapped, and then groaned. 'That came out wrong. I apologise. I just really need to find Dorian.'

'It's all right,' Hawke smiled. 'You've been though a lot recently, Lavellan. People are expecting you to just be fine, because to them you're Herald of Andraste, and you're invincible. It's ok to not be fine.'

Whilst Hawke's comforting words were appreciated, they weren't the ones he needed to hear right now. 'Dorian's father really isn't a blood mage though,' Lavellan insisted quietly. 'He made a mistake. Since then, he's never touched it again, as far as I know.'

'That's good,' Hawke nodded. 'I'll tell Fenris. Maybe that will convince him to apologise in person.'

'I think Dorian would appreciate that,' Lavellan sighed. 'If he's not here, I guess we could just start at his room, and go on from there?'

'Sounds like a plan,' Hawke agreed, and watched as Lavellan moved towards the stairs. 'What? You're not going to jump today?'

Lavellan looked back at him over his shoulder, and found Hawke's grin to be infectious.

* * *

THUMP. Lavellan landed in a crouch, right in the centre of Solas' desk. Papers scattered, and Solas nearly hurled his book across the room as he jumped in his seat. Lavellan stood, brushing imaginary dust off of his clothes in an attempt to hide the fact that he was pleased with himself, and stepped off of the table.

' _Inquisitor,_ ' Solas sighed in exasperation. 'How many times must I ask you to _take the stairs?_ '

 **THUMP.** Hawke landed just off centre, causing Solas to flinch violently again. 'The Inquisitor's a busy man, Chuckles,' Hawke grinned. 'He doesn't have time to take the stairs.'

'It does not take long to just walk down - what did you call me?'

Hawke and Lavellan fled the room, leaving a frustrated and confused Solas behind.

* * *

Lavellan knocked on Dorian's door, Hawke hovering uncertainly behind him. There was no sound from inside, even when he pressed an ear to the door. Irritated, the elf knocked again, harder this time. 'Dorian!' he called. 'Dorian, if you're in there, just... Open the door.' He could just about feel it; Dorian's magic. He was in there, hiding.

' _Dorian_ ,' Lavellan called again, and Hawke reached out to place a hand on his shoulder.

'Maybe we should leave him alone?' Hawke suggested. Clearly, he'd sensed that Dorian was in there too. 'We can just come back later.'

Lavellan shrugged him off, too annoyed to give up now. 'Dorian Pavus, open this door right now, before I blast it in.'

'Go away,' Dorian's voice came through the door, and he sounded irritated too. 'I don't need you peeping and prying after me like you're my mother.'

'I am _not_ -' He remembered Hawke was still there, and the Champion suddenly realised it too.

'I, uh... Yeah.' Hawke clapped his hands together, though he wasn't quite sure why. 'I'd better go and see Varric about... Uh... Right.' And he walked away.

'I am _not_ like your mother,' Lavellan hissed through the door.

'"Dorian Pavus, open this door right now",' Dorian mimicked in a high falsetto.

'I didn't sound like that!'

'It's what you said.'

'Will you please open the door?'

There was a long silence that seriously tested Lavellan's patience, and then he heard the door unlock. It didn't open, but it was a start. Lavellan turned the handle and entered the room. Dorian sat sulking on the edge of his bed, his arms folded and not looking in Lavellan's direction. With a quick glance, Lavellan spotted an open letter on Dorian's desk, and wondered if it was _the_ letter.

'Dorian,' Lavellan sighed, closing the door behind him. Dorian didn't move from his position, and Lavellan rolled his eyes. 'Will you at least look at me?'

'Oh, very well,' Dorian huffed, and glanced at him. 'But don't expect me to discuss my _feelings_.'

'All right, fine,' Lavellan nodded. 'Can I at least say what's on my mind?'

Dorian said nothing, which Lavellan took for an affirmative. He sat on the edge of the bed, next to Dorian, and sighed heavily.

'Look, I know I haven't seen you properly for a couple of days, and we only just started talking about what happened at Adamant yesterday,' Lavellan began. 'And Fenris coming here was as much of a surprise to me as it was to you. And I'm sorry I asked you to come with me to see him, I know it's my fault you met, and I had no idea that he was going to say those things. And I'm sorry he did. And Hawke came here to apologise, if that means anything.' Dorian still said nothing, and wasn't looking at him anymore. 'Just, please... Don't shut me out. Not again.' He placed his fingertips gently on Dorian's shoulder. 'You know you can talk to me. You don't need to hide things from me, Dorian.' The silence continued, and now it hurt to hear. 'Don't you trust me?'

'Of course I do!' Dorian seemed horrified that he'd even suggested it, which was a relief; the mage turned quickly to look at him, surprise in his eyes. 'It's just that no-one else seems to trust me.'

That felt like a slap. 'I do.'

Dorian sighed, lifting his hand to absentmindedly brush back a lock of dark red hair. 'I know. But no matter how hard I try, I am constantly reminded that I am from Tevinter. And whilst I am proud of my country, and of all the potential it has, those views are not shared in the south. As such, I am not trusted here.'

'Of course you are. Do you think that if Cassandra didn't trust you she'd let you just walk around freely?' Lavellan tried to make a joke, but Dorian wasn't smiling. 'What makes you think you aren't trusted?'

'Oh, I don't know, maybe it's the way people glare at me as I walk past? I might be used to that in Tevinter, but it doesn't mean I like it. Or perhaps it's that Leliana reads my letters?' Dorian gave another exasperated sigh.

'Leliana reads your letters?' So Dorian knew? Or he'd noticed. Was he finally going to talk about it? 'When did she do that?'

'Just the other day,' Dorian rolled his eyes. 'I thought something was odd, and then Mother Giselle gave me a look that made me suspicious. So I looked closer and lo and behold, I find that the seal has been broken and melted again to cover it up.'

'Who was it from?' Lavellan kept his voice mild.

'It doesn't matter,' Dorian groaned, standing up and turning to look down at him. 'What does matter is that here I am, trying my best to help the Inquisition fight Corypheus, and I'm being harassed because of my birthplace.'

'I'm sure Leliana was just trying to prove to Mother Giselle that she had nothing to worry about,' Lavellan insisted. 'You're one of us, Dorian. Everyone knows that.'

'You're having nightmares again,' Dorian said suddenly, the change of topic catching Lavellan off guard. 'Are they about Stroud?'

A lump formed in Lavellan's throat. 'Yes,' he admitted, and then looked at him closely. 'Are you having nightmares?'

Dorian ignored the question, which was an answer in itself. 'You don't need to keep blaming yourself. Stroud was a Warden, and he died in the line of duty like all Wardens should.'

Lavellan was silent for a moment, doing his best to push the thoughts out of his head. He was not going to let Dorian make this about him, because it wasn't. The whole reason Lavellan had come here in the first place was for Dorian. 'Well,' he said at last. 'I know you, and you're clearly not telling me everything that's on your mind. Your nightmares wouldn't be about what happened in the Fade as well, would they?'

'Not exactly,' Dorian ran a hand through his hair carefully.

'And this letter thing has really made you agitated. Why?'

'Why do you think?' Dorian snorted. 'How would you like it if Leliana read yours?'

Lavellan stood, furrowing his brow. Even standing, Dorian was still taller than him. 'You've never cared before. You suggested that's what she would do when you first got here. What's changed?'

'Nothing,' Dorian grit his teeth, and Lavellan could almost see him mentally digging his heels in.

'Then why don't you trust me enough to talk to me?'

'Festis bei umo canavarum,' Dorian groaned, casting his eyes heavenward. 'I have already told you, amatus, I do trust you.'

 _There_. 'Now you sound like yourself,' Lavellan said with some small satisfaction. When Dorian shot him a confused look, he found himself to be smiling. 'You spoke in Tevene, you called me 'amatus' and you rolled your eyes like you normally do.'

Something changed in the way Dorian was looking at him, and it made the tips of Lavellan's ears betray him and turn pink. A small smile quirked up one corner of Dorian's mouth, and although it seemed like the usual smile he did, it didn't hide the light of desire that flickered in his grey eyes. That was what had made Lavellan flush; he was reminded that Dorian was pretty, and he looked like he was going to kiss him.

'You still haven't told me,' Dorian murmured, his voice dropping lower. 'What does "Ar lath ma" mean?'

Lavellan blinked once, twice. 'Uh...?'

Dorian's hand lifted to Lavellan's face, his fingertips tracing along the elf's high cheekbone and along his graceful, pointed ear. Pink tinged Lavellan's cheeks now, and he was looking up at the mage with a mixture of wonder and want. ' _Ar lath ma_. What does it mean?'

'I... don't think I can tell you.'

Dorian moved his face closer, until their noses were almost touching. He hadn't realised it until now, but he'd missed Lavellan. He'd seen him almost every day up until this point, but he missed the feeling of Lavellan's touch. He'd missed feeling his breath panting along his neck. He'd missed sleeping beside him, being able to hold him whilst the dreams that the Anchor provided made him toss and turn. Dorian could never admit it to him, but as long as Lavellan was sleeping at his side, Skyhold felt like the safest place in the world. That's why it hurt when he thought about... He mentally shook himself, bringing his thoughts back to the here and now.

'Can I convince you to tell me?' Dorian purred, and Lavellan managed a grin.

'You can try.'

Dorian loved a challenge.

* * *

Fenris waited impatiently for Hawke to return. He'd insisted on going to see that Tevinter mage and apologising, but Fenris didn't see the point. The man had obviously known by how he reacted. It was the brief flicker of pain in the Inquisitor's eyes as the mage had brushed past him, that was what concerned Fenris. The Dalish elf had been kind, and had looked out for Hawke whilst they were in the Fade. Fenris owed him. But he wasn't blind; he could see the way that the Inquisitor looked at the magister's son, and recognised what he saw in those eyes. That was how Fenris looked at Hawke.

He felt cold, despite the lyrium under his skin and the heat that flashed across his forehead. Even though it was still the middle of the day the room was dark, as the servants had assumed he'd want to rest, so they had not lit any lamps. But Fenris was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to sleep again until Hawke got back.

As if summoned by the thought, the door creaked open and Hawke crept in. The foolish man obviously thought Fenris was asleep by the way he comically sneaked forwards, tiptoeing exaggeratedly. Fenris tried to keep the snort of laughter from escaping, but was unsuccessful.

'Aha!' Hawke cried triumphantly. 'You are awake. I thought you were.'

'Yes, I am,' Fenris narrowed his eyes at him. 'How did you know?'

'Even if it's dark, I always know where your eyes are.'

Fenris rolled them now. 'Oh really?'

'Yes. They're all over me.'

Fenris chuckled, low in his throat, and Hawke's grin widened. 'I've missed that sound.'

'Well, you shouldn't leave me behind then.'

Hawke barely heard him; seeing Fenris without his armour always brought mixed reactions. It was nice to see him more relaxed, less tense and paranoid, no longer watching over his shoulder. But similarly, especially when he was ill, Hawke was struck by how much smaller and more vulnerable he looked without it, and it made Hawke want to wrap him in his arms and never let go.

'Are you cold?' he asked, noticing that Fenris was slightly shivering.

'N-no,' Fenris replied firmly, rolling over to turn his back on the man and hide whatever he had noticed. 'It will pass.'

Hawke didn't reply, but Fenris felt a momentary cold rush of air as he lifted the covers. He turned again, about to protest, but then he felt the press of Hawke's chest against his back, and the taller man wrapped an arm around him protectively. Fenris relaxed against him, glad that Hawke couldn't see him smiling; he'd never hear the end of it.

'I missed you, Fenris,' Hawke mumbled into his white hair, sending shivers down Fenris' spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

'I... missed you too,' Fenris admitted, feeling uncharacteristically shy.

It didn't take long for Fenris to fall asleep. Hawke smiled to himself in the dark as Fenris dreamed in his arms, feeling better than he had in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

Lavellan was exhausted.

Though it was nearing midday, he felt as though he could fall asleep right here. The steady rhythm of Dorian's heart under his palm and the heat coming from the man's skin did nothing to stave off the drowsiness. Lavellan pressed his nose to Dorian's neck, snuggling into him, breathing in the exotic, musky scent that belonged to the Tevinter mage alone. He had missed him. In the weeks leading up to Adamant, they hadn't had much time alone because of travelling and fighting, and Lavellan had missed just being himself, not the Inquisitor. Behind closed doors with Dorian, he felt more real that he did when he stood before the others, shouting orders. _This is real._

' _Ar lath, ma vhenan_ ,' Lavellan murmured sleepily against Dorian's skin.

Dorian blinked in surprise, looking down at his elven lover. 'You said it again. But more this time.'

'Hm?'

'You'll have to tell me what it means eventually.' Dorian sounded suspiciously awake. Lavellan slowly opened his eyes.

Dorian had one arm wrapped around Lavellan, pulling him in close to his chest, his hand resting on Lavellan's upper arm. Dorian's other hand was holding a bit of paper that looked a lot like a letter. _The_ letter? Lavellan wriggled upwards to try and get a better look.

'Ow. What are you doing?' Dorian chuckled, adjusting his position as Lavellan accidentally headbutted his chin.

'I want to see what you're doing.'

Dorian abruptly began to fold the letter. 'It's nothing, amatus.'

'You, Dorian Pavus, are a terrible liar.' Lavellan yawned, whilst Dorian continued to try and fold the letter one handed.

'I find that insulting. I'm an excellent liar.'

'Hm,' Lavellan narrowed his eyes in thought, and then snatched a hand out for the letter.

'No!' Dorian gasped, rolling away sharply and dropping the letter in the process. Lavellan moved too, lunging forwards and laying across Dorian's back. The letter tumbled to the floor.

'What's the matter, Dorian?' Lavellan teased, pinning the taller man on his front. 'I thought it was nothing.'

'It _is_ nothing,' Dorian groaned, trying to wriggle out from under him, but Lavellan could see him trying not to laugh.

'Well, if it's nothing,' Lavellan murmured directly into his ear, grinning at the soft intake of breath this produced. 'Then you would be able to just tell me.' He slid his hand round towards Dorian's front, managing to get it underneath him as the mage struggled.

'Could you please stop being so inquisitive?' Dorian breathed as Lavellan explored.

'No. It's my job.'

Dorian tried to move forwards to grab the letter again, but this just aided Lavellan. He gave a small moan as Lavellan's hand found its mark. ' _Kaffas_ ,' Dorian laughed, giving up on the letter entirely. 'You are persistent. A few minutes ago you were almost asleep.' He couldn't stop another moan escaping as Lavellan's hand moved slowly, first up, then down.

'Well, none of this would have happened if you'd just answered my question.'

'I see. Blackmail, is it?' With strength and speed that startled the elf, Dorian rolled over and managed to catch Lavellan off balance, forcing him onto his back. Dorian loomed over him on his hands and knees, cutting off any escape. Lavellan let his eyes wander the length of his naked body, a smile curling the corner of his lips.

 _Creators, he's beautiful_.

'Now then,' Dorian said in a very business-like tone that didn't match his flushed cheeks or the excitement in his eyes. 'I'll have you know I don't hold with blackmailers, especially when they're a tease.'

'Oh?' Lavellan grinned up at him. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'

'Don't toy with me, Luvian,' Dorian frowned, but his eyes spoke of desire.

'Luvian? You're being serious,' Lavellan chuckled.

'I'm always serious,' Dorian lied shamelessly, leaning down to kiss him.

'If you make me late for the war council,' Lavellan mumbled against his warm, damp mouth. 'I'll be very cross with you.'

* * *

Fenris sat on the window ledge, overlooking the courtyard below. He'd been at Skyhold for a day now, and his illness had almost completely passed. He still found that he got cold too easily, but he was definitely recovering. Now that Hawke was rested as well, and more relaxed, he'd used magic to heal over Fenris' feet, so the elf could walk around rather than hobble about painfully.

Out of habit rather than choice, he'd avoided pretty much everyone in the fortress, remaining mostly in their bedroom or only exploring when it was quiet, or when Hawke was with him. They still hadn't spoken about what had happened at Adamant, in the Fade. Fenris had entered the Fade with Hawke once before, but it had been a dream to save a boy, Feynriel. He couldn't imagine what that might have been like to physically walk in it.

Hawke seemed a bit more distant that he usually was, which worried Fenris, although he'd never show it. He wasn't obviously distant, and he didn't treat anyone differently, but Fenris had been at the man's side long enough to recognise the signs. Something bad happened, then. Something had hurt Hawke, even if it wasn't a physical wound. _I should have been here_. Fenris grit his teeth, glaring out at the greenery beyond the window. As soon as Hawke was convinced that he was well enough, the two of them would travel to Weisshaupt to warn the other Grey Wardens about Corypheus' corruption. _I will not leave him again_.

The door opened, and Hawke walked in, humming to himself. His smile widened when he spotted Fenris. 'A little fresh air and sunshine won't kill you, you know,' he quipped, but Fenris didn't smile. Hawke moved closer, his expression one of uncertainty, and when he was close enough Fenris caught him by the front of his shirt and yanked him forwards, sealing his mouth with his own.

'Mmph!' Was all Hawke managed to say, caught off guard by Fenris' sudden fit of passion. There was something desperate in it that alarmed him.

'Are you all right?' Hawke asked after managing to break off the kiss. Fenris looked up at him with those large, beautiful eyes.

'I... do not know.' Fenris released his grip on Hawke's shirt, resting his hand against his chest instead, just over his heart. 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't apologise for that,' Hawke chuckled.

'I'm not sorry for _that_ ,' Fenris snorted, making Hawke's smile widen. 'I am sorry because... I was not here, to protect you.'

Hawke became serious at once. 'What do you mean?' _That's my Hawke._ He could bounce between laughter and seriousness at the drop of a hat, but when it came to Fenris he was always quick to listen and understand.

'When I heard you had entered the Fade,' Fenris began slowly, unable to look at him. 'I was terrified. I thought that you were lost to me, and when I heard that one of you had not made it out alive... I nearly lost my mind.' He sighed, closing his eyes tightly. 'I cannot lose you, Hawke. I will not.'

'No, you won't,' Hawke agreed, pressing his forehead to Fenris'. Fenris opened his eyes again, but didn't pull away. 'The Fade was horrible,' Hawke admitted. 'It was everything I feared, rolled into one. It said you were going to die, just like my family.' He breathed out slowly through his nose, closing his own eyes. 'I knew it was just saying that to hurt me, but for just a moment I was glad. Glad that it was me in there, and you were miles away and safe.'

'Hawke,' Fenris began to interrupt, but Hawke pulled away to look him in the eyes.

'I won't lose you either, Fenris. I'd rather die than watch you fall to try and save me.' His eyes softened as he smiled gently. 'So stay close, so I can protect you.'

'That's what I was going to say,' Fenris said hoarsely, feeling his throat constrict with emotion that only Hawke could bring out in him. They'd been doing this too long for Fenris to even try and pretend he hated him. He pressed his forehead carefully against Hawke's chest, almost too embarrassed to say the words.

'I... I love you, Garrett.' _I have for eleven years_.

'Good,' Hawke said seriously, making the elf chuckle.

* * *

Fenris had been in Skyhold for two days when it happened.

Something had woken him; he sat bolt upright, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. He hadn't really been dreaming of anything, so it wasn't a nightmare that had caused him to wake suddenly. Moonlight spilled through a thin gap in the curtains, stretching out across the floor and just about making it to the foot of the bed. Hawke was snoring gently at his side, although he stirred with Fenris' sudden movement.

Nothing seemed to have woken him, but something felt very wrong. A sudden flash of light and a burst of pain caused him to cry out. The lyrium on his chest had flared into life suddenly, and then died again. Hawke awoke with a start at the sound of Fenris' voice.

'Fenris? What's wrong?' he asked, his voice husky from sleep. 'Are you ok?'

'I don't know,' Fenris answered honestly, and the concern in his voice made Hawke sit up.

'What is it? Are you hurt? Where?'

Fenris gave another cry as a pulse of energy shuddered through him, making the markings blaze. Hawke instinctively wrapped his arms around the elf, pulling him into an almost crushing hug. Fenris gasped, but Hawke hushed him, pouring healing magic into him. The lyrium cooled and subsided, allowing Fenris to relax again.

'What was that about?' Hawke murmured against Fenris' hair.

'I don't know,' Fenris was alarmed to admit. 'That isn't normal.'

'Are you feeling sick? Upset about something?' Hawke placed a hand against Fenris' face, searching it for signs of distress beyond his current confusion.

'No. I was asleep.'

'A nightmare?'

'No. I was fine until the markings started acting like that.'

Hawke nodded slowly. 'All right. You're fine. That was weird, but we're ok.' He quickly kissed the tip of Fenris' nose. 'Good.'

Something outside their bedroom door caused them both to freeze. The hair on the backs of their necks stood up, and their eyes grew wide. An eerie green light shone through the cracks in the door, illuminating their room. Something like a sigh whispered through the door, but it didn't sound like it came from a person. The lyrium in Fenris' skin began to react to the light, glowing a steady blue. Thanks to Hawke still holding him, he felt no pain from the markings, but he felt both his own body and Hawke's tighten from some unnamed fear. Hawke could feel Fenris' heart slamming against his chest, and was pretty sure his own was doing the same.

They held their breath and the light slowly moved from the left hand side of the door to the right, seemingly travelling along the corridor. Hawke and Fenris clutched at each other and remained frozen until the light finally passed on, letting their room fade back into darkness. Then they both slowly began to breath again.

'Ok,' Hawke whispered against Fenris' ear tip. 'I'm not ashamed to admit that that was pretty terrifying.'

* * *

Dorian opened his eyes slowly, not sure why he was awake. It was the middle of the night, for crying out loud, and he could see the moon shining out of the window. He rolled over, lifting his arm to drape it over Lavellan, and found nothing but air. He propped himself up on one elbow, rubbing sleep out of his eyes with his free hand.

'Lavellan?' He looked around the room. He was in the Inquisitor's quarters, but they were seriously lacking an Inquisitor. The door was open too, creating a draft that curled its way up the stairs towards him.

Something didn't feel right.

Dorian sat up and put his feet out over the edge of the bed, but just before they connected with the floor he froze. Like a child, he had the illogical urge to check under the bed to see if it was safe. He pulled his feet back up and leaned forwards over the side of the bed, not entirely sure why he was doing this. He was afraid of something, he knew that much. But he highly doubted there were actually monsters under the bed, so this made no sense. Unless...

Slowly and carefully, Dorian reached down, his fingers hesitating over the bed sheet that was hanging down over the gap between the bed frame and the floor. _Dorian, you are thirty years old,_ he told himself firmly. _You haven't checked for monsters since you were six. Now get a hold of yourself and check for monsters_.

He took a deep breath, curled his fingers around the cover, and yanked.

There was nothing under the bed. He let his breath out in a rush of air. _Of course there's nothing under the bed, idiot,_ snapped the little voice in his head. _You're being ridiculous._ Dorian sat up again, swung his legs over the side and let his feet touch the floor. It was unpleasantly cold, but there was a more pressing issue at hand. Why was he inexplicably afraid? And where was Lavellan?

Dorian shuddered, feeling the chill beginning to climb his legs and attack his bare arms and chest, and hurried to grab a shirt from one of the drawers. That still didn't seem to do the trick, so he pulled Lavellan's thick winter cloak over his shoulders too, wrapping it tightly around himself. He couldn't find his shoes in the dark, and his fear made him desperately want to find Lavellan, motivating him to leave the room as quickly as he could. _Why would he leave me?_ He found himself asking. _Did I do something wrong?_

Of course, this couldn't possibly be the case, and Dorian knew it. But something had scared him badly, and he wanted... What did he want? What would take this feeling of dread away? _A hug._ He rolled his eyes as the answer came to him. _I need a hug? Really?_ A door slammed somewhere in Skyhold, making him jump. _All right, apparently I need a hug_.

' _Venhedis_ , Lavellan,' he hissed into the darkness. 'Where are you?' The darkness seemed to be closing in around him, and he could feel hundreds of eyes watching him from the shadows. Were the walls closing in? The air was getting thicker, it was getting hard to breathe, in a minute the panic would overwhelm him and he would scream... Dorian thrust one hand out from under the cloak and summoned some magic. Within seconds a handful of flames flickered along his fingers, settled neatly in his palm. The corridor around him was illuminated, revealing nothing but stone walls.

'I am not afraid of the dark,' Dorian spat through gritted teeth. Something was seriously wrong.

'Are you sure, darling?' a voice asked from behind him, and Dorian whirled around with a shout, ready to hurl a fireball.

'Careful,' Vivienne hissed, raising her hands to defend herself. 'No need to get violent, my dear Dorian.'

'You...' Dorian fought to catch his breath. His heart seemed to be trying to escape his chest. 'Where did you come from?'

'I was sleeping peacefully,' Vivienne shrugged delicately. 'And then something terrifying and foul interrupted my rest. It's still here, lingering in the walls of this fortress. It fills you with an inexplicable fear. I wasn't scared of heights until five minutes ago. So I thought I'd find the source.'

So, the same thing Dorian had been experiencing then. He narrowed his eyes at the court mage suspiciously. 'Why are we the only two who seem to be feeling this way?'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean,' Dorian gestured to the empty corridor around them. 'The entirety of Skyhold is in bed, asleep. Those that aren't are on the walls keeping watch. This place is deserted,' he frowned. 'And yet, we were both woken by the same feeling of dread.'

'I think I missed the point. Unless you never gave one.'

'The point is,' Dorian said through gritted teeth. Nothing like a dose of Vivienne's sharp tongue to snap you out of your fears. 'No-one else seems to have noticed that there's something terribly wrong.'

'Well, we should wake the Inquisitor at least,' Vivienne said. Dorian shook his head miserably.

'He was gone when I woke up. I was looking for him.'

'Perhaps he's looking for the source too,' she pointed out. To his surprise, she refrained from remarking on him sleeping in the same bed as the Inquisitor, though he was sure she badly wanted to. 'Either way we gain nothing from standing around here in the cold.'

'Oh, you noticed it?' Dorian rolled his eyes. 'I thought you were immune, being so cold yourself.'

'Not your best quip, Dorian dear, but then you _are_ tired.'


	6. Chapter 6

Dorian and Vivienne padded quietly along the corridors of Skyhold, searching for the source of their inexplicable, illogical fears. Twice now, Vivienne had jumped at a shadow cast by the light from Dorian's flames, and Dorian had the nauseating feeling that they were being followed by something. Both mages were on edge as they crept along the stone floors, glancing about fearfully for whatever might be lurking in the dark.

'This is ridiculous,' Vivienne snapped after jumping at shadows for the third time. This time she had reflexively cast Winter's Grasp, which didn't help the temperature in the building. Dorian hated the cold. And he was barefoot, which made it all worse. 'We seem to be going around in circles. We're no closer to finding the source than we were when we started.'

'We've only been at it for a couple of minutes,' Dorian snapped back. 'We need to find Lavellan.'

'If the Inquisitor was in trouble, we would have known about it by now,' Vivienne shook her head. 'Quite spectacularly, I would imagine.'

A flickering light at the other end of the corridor made both of them freeze. Dorian closed his fist, snuffing out his own light and leaving both himself and Vivienne in the dark. It was a mistake. As soon as the light was gone, panic began to build. _I'm not afraid of the dark. I have never been afraid of the dark._ The light was getting closer, and now he could hear light footsteps coming towards him. He tried counting to ten, but his heartbeat was deafening. _I'm not afraid of the dark, I..._ He heard Vivienne breathing next to him, but it was so dark that he couldn't see his own hand in front of his face. The light was closer, the footsteps louder, his chest ached, the hairs along his arms and neck were stood to attention...

 _I'm afraid of the dark. Lavellan, where are you?_

'Who's there?' a voice called out, making both Dorian and Lavellan jump. Dorian let out a sigh of relief; that was Hawke's voice. He ignited the flames in his hand again, throwing light over both himself and Vivienne, and they watched as Hawke and Fenris emerged from the gloom. Dorian's jaw tightened at the sight of the elf; they hadn't spoken since Fenris had called his father a blood mage two days ago. _Don't think about it. You have more important things to be getting on with_. The elf glanced at him, and then looked to Hawke.

'Dorian,' Hawke seemed relieved too. 'And Enchanter Vivienne, a pleasure to see you. No, seriously, I'm glad it's you two and not some ghoul.'

'Do you have any idea what is going on, Champion?'

'No, Enchanter,' Hawke shook his head. 'I just know that I'm freaked out, and some creepy green light went past our room.'

'Green light?' Dorian frowned. 'We haven't seen anything like that.'

'It was clearly magic,' Fenris remarked calmly, showing no sign of fear or distress. 'My markings reacted to it.'

For some reason, Dorian felt sick. The fear had returned, but for a different reason. 'You haven't seen Lavellan, have you?'

'No,' Hawke looked surprised. 'Not since this morning.'

Fenris also shook his head. 'The last I saw of him, he was in the gardens.' He frowned at Dorian. 'Why? Is he missing?'

'Yes,' Dorian said, clenching his jaw again.

Fenris looked at him for a long time, seemingly studying his face. Dorian had no idea what he saw there, but something like acceptance passed over Fenris' face. 'Then we shall make looking for him our priority.'

'But, the source of this magic,' Vivienne protested, but Fenris silenced her with a look. For a moment, Dorian was impressed.

'Well, I don't think he's inside,' Hawke said. 'I can't sense him, just a lot of this... fear. So maybe we should check outside? It'll clear our heads, if nothing else.'

'Ugh, more cold,' Dorian complained, but his mind was racing. Green light... Lavellan missing... Were they linked? The only time Dorian had seen Lavellan use green magic was when he was closing rifts... His mark. Dorian felt his stomach drop. Was the green light the glow from the Anchor? Had Lavellan himself passed Hawke's door?

They made their way through the Great Hall, Dorian and Hawke lighting their path with fire magic. They'd nearly reached the door, when suddenly...

'There is no escape,' someone whispered, and Hawke, Dorian, Vivienne and Fenris screamed. When they saw who it was, all four of them looked at each other, embarrassed, and silently vowed never to speak of it again.

' _Cole,_ ' Dorian gasped for air. 'You scared the living daylights out of me.' The others said nothing, trying to make sure they didn't collapse from a heart attack.

'Yes, lots of fear,' Cole agreed mildly. A door opened nearby, making everyone but Cole jump, and Varric stepped out, armed with Bianca.

'Maker's Breath, kid,' Varric groaned, lowering the crossbow. 'I asked you to help me find people, not scare them to death.'

'They were already afraid, Varric,' Cole said. 'There's lots of fear. It's coming through from the Fade. There's no escaping it.'

'He's been saying this for quite a while,' Varric sighed, nodding a greeting to Hawke and Fenris. 'I was having a bad dream, and when I woke up the kid came and knocked on my door, said there was an emergency.'

Cole turned his dewy eyes on Dorian. 'He's scared, Dorian. Trapped in the nightmare, light flickering, fighting reality because he doesn't want it.' Cole shook his head. 'His fears trickle through the cracks, like water through rock. Dwarves don't have magic,' he added, looking at Varric.

Hawke caught on first. 'Varric doesn't have magic, so the magic has no hold on him? He had a bad dream and woke up.'

'I tried to wake Sera, and then Cassandra, but they didn't hear me,' Cole whimpered. 'The magic has them, the fear holds their sleep. Dorian, he's scared. He thinks he's following Stroud.'

Dorian's heart dropped to his toes.

'Lavellan?' Varric asked. 'Lavellan thinks he's following Stroud?'

'Lights flickering, his strength failing, he doesn't recognise real from not real anymore.' Cole shut his eyes. 'Stroud, wait! Don't go that way, the Nightmare is there, come back with me and I can save you!"

'Cole, where is he?' Dorian asked. _He still thinks he can save Stroud. He still wants to save Stroud_. ' _Cole!_ '

The young man jumped at the tone of Dorian's voice, and then pointed towards the doors. 'He's on the battlements. He's trying to fight the fear.' He met Dorian's gaze. 'But if you don't go now, he'll fall.'

* * *

Lavellan could hardly breathe. Everywhere he looked there was nothing but dark rock that squelched underfoot and black ash that seemed to rise upwards from the ground, floating away into oblivion.

 _Inquisitor, it has been an honor,_ Stroud whispered through the dark.

'Stroud!' Lavellan tried to yell, but no sound came out. 'Stroud, don't go that way!'

The Grey Warden was walking away from him, further and further into the dark. Lavellan tried to hurry after him, but every movement seemed slowed down, like he was trying to wade through water. He tried to use magic to push through, but he couldn't feel any connection to it when he reached out. Fine, without magic then. Lavellan grit his teeth. _I will save you, Stroud. I can still save you_.

* * *

Dorian sprinted out into the cold, dark courtyard, the cloak having slipped from his shoulders as he'd run down the steps from the Great Hall, left behind somewhere on the stones. _If you don't go now, he'll fall._ The fear was real this time, not conjured from a memory of what had happened in the Fade.

'Lavellan!' he shouted into the darkness. 'Lavellan!'

He whirled around in a circle, looking everywhere for a sign that Lavellan was there. The grass was wet and cold underfoot; Dorian barely noticed. The battlements looked clear - had Cole been mistaken? No, there! Near Cullen's tower, a green light flashed and pulsed. Dorian recognised the light, having seen Lavellan perform miracles with it time and time again. The Anchor... He heard Hawke and Fenris approach, but didn't wait. Dorian took off at a flat run, racing towards the nearest steps that would take him up to the battlements. _Hold on, amatus_.

Dorian rushed up the stairs, his lungs burning from the effort but adrenaline lending him speed. Behind him, both Hawke and Fenris kept the pace with barely any effort. Under any other circumstances, Dorian might have spared some mild irritation in acknowledgment of this fact. He sensed that Vivienne, Varric and Cole were not far behind. He slammed through the first door he came to, nearly setting it alight in the process. The second did burst into flames.

Lavellan was walking slowly away from them, his left arm burning with an intense green light. 'Lavellan!' Dorian yelled, running to catch up. The outer wall of the battlements dropped away suddenly, a wound left from ages past. He was so close to the edge. Too close. ' _Lavellan!_ '

* * *

Lavellan forged on through the dark. I am not afraid, he told himself. I am not afraid.

 _Inquisitor,_ Stroud's voice floated from the grey. _It has been an honor._

'Stroud!' Lavellan shouted, but his voice did not obey him.

 _A Warden must rebuild_.

 _Inquisitor..._

 _I am a Grey Warden._

 _It has been an honor._

 ** _You left me to die._**

 **It was all for nothing.**

'Lavellan!'

* * *

Dorian reached Lavellan with seconds to spare, catching the elf around the middle and stopping him in his tracks. Just four more steps, and he would have gone over the edge. 'Lavellan,' Dorian panted, gasping for air. 'Lavellan, are you all right?'

He managed to get round in front of him, now that the Inquisitor had stopped moving, and cried out in horror at what he saw. Lavellan's eyes were filled with the same eerie light that engulfed his left hand. The light ran down his face like tears, and he stared ahead, sightless. It was so bright that it almost hurt to look at.

'Lavellan,' Dorian placed both hands on either side of his lover's face, his fingers resting along those pointed ears, his fingertips in that lovely dark red hair. 'Can you hear me?' There was no response, not even a hint of recognition. The others had caught up, including Cole, Varric and Vivienne, who all watched closely whilst trying to catch their breath.

Lavellan took a step forwards, forcing Dorian to take a step back. _Oh no._ 'Lavellan,' Dorian cried in alarm. 'Lavellan, no. It's not real.'

'He can't hear you,' Cole gasped. 'He doesn't know you're there.'

'Lavellan, wake up,' Dorian commanded, unable to keep the building panic out of his voice. ' _Wake up_ , Luvian. There, you see? I'm being serious now. Luvian, it's not real.' Lavellan took another step, and Dorian gasped as he tried to not overbalance. The others reflexively lurched forwards, but a blast of green energy from the Anchor forced them back again. They all realised as one that they wouldn't be able to catch both Lavellan and Dorian from this distance. Lavellan was blocking them from reaching Dorian in time, if the worst should happen.

'Luvian!' Dorian shouted desperately, trying to push him back away from the edge. 'Listen to me amatus, wake up, _please_. _Luvian!_ '

* * *

' _Luvian!_ ' Lavellan whirled around, looking for the source of the voice. He stood still, listening intently. That had sounded like Dorian... But that wasn't right, he couldn't be here.

'Dorian?' Lavellan called uncertaintly, but his voice was still inaudible.

 _Inquisitor,_ Stroud's voice called him towards the dark. _Inquisitor..._

'Luvian, please! _Please_ amatus, just _wake up!_ ' That definitely sounded like Dorian, and he sounded terrified. It physically hurt Lavellan to hear him sound like that. Whatever was scaring Dorian that much had a lot to answer for.

' _Luvian!_ '

 _Inquisitor..._

Another choice? Lavellan nearly collapsed under the weight. Dorian or Stroud? Was that his choice? He was so close to saving Stroud, he could feel it...

'Luvian, listen to me,' Dorian's voice came through urgently. 'Please, amatus, this isn't real. What you're seeing isn't real, you're still asleep. Please wake up. If you don't wake up we're going to die.'

 _I died, Inquisitor. Will you let me die twice?_

Wait, " _we're_ going to die"? Lavellan... _and_ Dorian?

' _Luvian!_ ' Dorian screamed, his terror reaching a new pitch.

No. Whatever was hurting Dorian had to stop, right now. Lavellan looked over his shoulder, and saw Stroud materialise out of the gloom.

'Stroud,' Lavellan said sadly. 'It has been an honor.'

And Lavellan made his choice.

* * *

Dorian had managed to force Lavellan back a pace, but it wasn't enough. 'Luvian, please! _Please_ amatus, just _wake up!_ ' He cried out desperately as the elf retook that second step forwards. Dorian couldn't physically stop him. Despite the elf being shorter and slimmer than him, he was stronger. ' _Luvian!_ '

It wasn't a position he found himself in often, but Dorian was scared out of his mind. Here he was, trying to stop his possessed lover from walking himself off of a cliff, and he'd put himself between the cliff and a force he couldn't physically stop. The others would never make it to him in time; Hawke and Fenris had both tried physically pulling Lavellan away from the edge, but both had been repelled by a whip of green energy that had flicked out from the Anchor.

Dorian clasped Lavellan's face, willing him to see him, to see that he was standing right here. 'Luvian, listen to me,' he begged. 'Please, amatus, this isn't real. What you're seeing isn't real, you're still asleep.' _I hope he's only asleep._ 'Please wake up.' _Luvian, please, I'm begging you._ 'If you don't wake up we're going to die.' _Please don't die, not now, not after everything I've seen you survive. Don't you dare die on me._

Lavellan took a third step forwards, and Dorian felt the air at his back. Lavellan still didn't see him, he was looking right through him. Dorian was looking at the face of the man he loved and didn't recognise it.

His composure snapped. ' _Luvian!_ ' he screamed, more afraid than he had ever been in his life. _I'm going to lose him. He's going to die here. I can't save him._ His heels were hanging off of the battlements, and he could feel the edge crumbling beneath his weight. _We're both going to die. I can't watch him die._ A new sick thought made his gut twist. _He won't even know we've died. As far as he's concerned, his life stopped when we said goodnight_.

 _I never told him._ Dorian felt the blood drain from his face. _I've never said the words "I love you"._ He'd always thought they were dangerous words, too much commitment, too much trust in the other person, too much risk of heartbreak. And now it was too late.

Lavellan began to take a step forwards... and then stopped.

' _Ma vhenan..._ ' He breathed, the first words he'd spoken since they'd gone to bed. He sounded so far away, not like himself at all. Dorian searched his face wildly for any sign of recognition, and... There it was. A vague flicker in his eyes, which made the green glow recede. He blinked once, twice, and the light began to fade, replaced by the natural green of his irises. The Anchor cooled down, letting the light bleed out and shrinking to its normal size. ' _Ma vhenan_...' Lavellan said again slowly, and then the natural light of consciousness lit his gaze. 'Dorian?' He sounded like himself, that was his real voice.

 _He knows me._ Dorian could have wept with relief; _he's back. He came back to me. I didn't lose him after all._

Then gravity remembered where Dorian was.

He yelled in alarm as the edge of the battlements finally crumbled, and he completely lost his footing. For a second he felt weightless, suspended in air, and then he heard Lavellan shout his name and two strong arms pulled him back towards the wall. Dorian fell forwards, landing heavily on top of Lavellan, who had grabbed him and twisted backwards.

Cole was crying and smiling when he approached the heap. 'You're back, Lavellan. You were having a nightmare.'

Hawke, Fenris, Varric and Vivienne had stood in stunned silence, watching the exchange in muted horror, but Cole's simple explanation seemed to snap them back to the present. Hawke and Fenris hurried forwards to help both mages to their feet, and Varric gave a low whistle.

'You gave us quite the scare,' he told Lavellan.

'Dorian most of all,' Cole put in. 'He thought he was going to lose you.'

Dorian didn't even bother denying it; he pulled Lavellan into a fierce hug, ignoring the fact that other people were there. 'How is it,' he murmured directly into Lavellan's ear. 'That no matter how many times I try to save you, you still end up saving me?'

'Skill,' Lavellan replied quietly, and Dorian allowed a shaky chuckle.

'I'm glad you're all right, Inquisitor,' Hawke said, and the two men broke apart. 'That was pretty scary. I'll probably have nightmares for weeks.' Although he was telling the truth, Hawke still managed to smile. Fenris shook his head in disbelief.

'I... don't actually know what happened,' Lavellan ran a hand through his hair. 'What are we doing here?'

'He doesn't remember,' Cole frowned. 'Dreams don't last long in the real world.'

'I think a lot of people are going to be waking up from their bad dreams,' Varric remarked, looking out over Skyhold. Everywhere in the castle, lights were beginning to appear in bedroom windows as people woke from their individual nightmares. 'Looks like the Anchor can do more than just close rifts.'

'Yes,' Vivienne agreed, eyeing Lavellan with suspicion. 'It most certainly seems so.'

Dorian didn't like that look in her eye, and felt himself bristle at once. Vivienne caught sight of his face and granted him a sneering smile. 'Whatever's the matter, _amatus?_ ' Dorian almost flinched. Almost. But the almost imperceptible wince was enough for Vivienne; satisfied, she strode away, and Dorian could almost hear the weeks of mockery trailing behind her, lining up to be used.

'Dorian,' Lavellan said in surprise. 'You haven't even got your boots on. You must be freezing.'

Dorian looked down at his bare feet, suddenly remembering where he was. Barefoot in the mountains? He should be dead, let alone freezing. As the fire of the adrenaline left him, Dorian realised just exactly how cold he was. ' _Venhedis,_ ' he gasped, wrapping his arms around himself. The shirt and loose trousers did basically nothing to protect him from the biting wind up here. 'Can we go inside, please?'


	7. Chapter 7

Dorian couldn't sleep.

They had agreed that they should let the matter rest until the morning. Wearily, Lavellan had just told them that he needed sleep, and that he'd like everything to be fully explained to him when the sun was in the sky. Lavellan mumbled something in his sleep, his brow furrowed, but he didn't get up and sleepwalk towards the battlements again. No eerie light trickled out from the now-dormant Anchor, and he seemed to be plagued by one of the regular bad dreams he'd had since becoming the Inquisitor. Dorian wondered vaguely if he'd had them when he was just the Herald, but he wouldn't know without asking; they hadn't slept together until they'd reached Skyhold.

Dorian still remembered that evening.

 _It's all very nice, this flirting business. I am, however, not a nice man._

 _I like playing hard to get._

Dorian watched Lavellan's face as he slept, watched him once again brave the dark and most likely win. He'd watched him walk into nightmares over and over again, and whether it was the Maker's blessing, skill or dumb luck, Lavellan always walked out again. He'd had so many close calls, though. Too many. Dorian finally let his pain reach his face, breaking through the mask. No-one was around to see it, so it didn't matter.

 _I like you. More than I should. More than might be wise._

Now that he'd thought about it, he couldn't stop the memories from flooding through. Lavellan sitting beside him on the edge of the bed, slender and lean and beautiful. His dark red hair scattered, but still tucked behind his left ear. Dorian loved his ears, though exactly why, he couldn't say.

'I want more than just fun, Dorian.'

That was the moment that Dorian dared to hope again. After everything he'd seen Lavellan do, this was the moment that he'd actually made Dorian speechless. Lavellan had of course picked up on it right away, and Dorian had to admit that he had expected something else. Because it was true; living in Tevinter had taught him to hide who he was, what he thought, what he... felt.

 _You learn not to hope for more. You'd be foolish to._

 _Let's be foolish._

Dorian winced at the memory now. _Of course, let's be foolish, Lavellan. No harm could come of that._ He sighed, and Lavellan stirred in his sleep. For a moment Dorian was afraid that he was going to wake again, or that he'd open his eyes and they'd be glowing. But no. Lavellan rolled onto his side, still muttering in Elvish, and his hand reached out and crossed the gap between himself and Dorian, fingertips brushing Dorian's side.

' _Ma vhenan..._ ' Lavellan mumbled, a small smile tugging at his lips, and then the dream carried him somewhere else.

 _Someone intelligent would cozy up to the Inquisitor if they could. It'd be foolish not to._

Dorian ran a hand down his face. That bloody letter. It had made it hard to concentrate, and with everything going on with Lavellan... What did Raphaela want? 'Meet me, Dorian, please. You owe me that, at least.' He owed her a lot more, actually, which was unfortunate. He'd almost forgotten about the debt he owed Magister Tilani's former apprentice. Without her, he might not have been able to leave Tevinter, although neither of them had realised it at the time. And now, out of nowhere, she wanted to meet him? What was she even doing outside of Tevinter?

Dorian glanced back at the sleeping Lavellan, his face calm now that the nightmare no longer burned through his soul. _I almost gave my life trying to save you, and you still ended up saving me. And yet, I cannot tell you that I..._ Dorian almost couldn't admit it to himself. The three most dangerous words in the world, and Dorian wasn't sure if he was brave enough for that risk.

Another thought that had been haunting him for two days burned in the back of his mind. My father met with Magister Danarius... and Danarius taught him that ritual. Dorian still felt sick thinking about it. Fenris hadn't been lying when he'd said that, Dorian was sure. The elf would have no reason to lie, and Dorian had seen the naked hate in his eyes. Hate for Dorian, or for blood magic? Because if it was the latter, then he was on Fenris' side with that one.

 _Ar lath ma_. He really hoped that it didn't mean what he thought it did, and then he instantly felt guilty for thinking that. _Why would I not want it to mean that?_

Lavellan gave a low moan, his hair sticking to his damp temples, and Dorian reached over to take his hand. His fingertips traced the green lines of the Anchor, spreading out over Lavellan's soft skin. Going to meet with Magister Raphaela seemed like a trap, somehow. It was an instinct that Dorian was quickly developing, thanks to constantly being in such close proximity to the Inquisitor all the time. Lavellan calmed quickly at his touch, whatever nightmare he'd been facing subsiding.

Lavellan had told Dorian his real name that night. They had been lying under the covers, out of breath and exhausted, and Lavellan had laughed suddenly.

'What?' Dorian demanded, trailing his fingers over Lavellan's chest.

'You still don't know my name, do you?'

Dorian's hand stopped moving. 'No, I don't. And I've been asking since I got to Haven.'

'Don't pout,' Lavellan chuckled. 'My name is Luvian, of clan Lavellan.'

'Luvian,' Dorian tested. He liked the sound. 'Well, it is a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance.'

'I've never cared about formal,' Lavellan - _Luvian_ \- had snorted.

Dorian looked at Lavellan's face now, and felt an overwhelming sadness. He made up his mind to not tell him about the letter. Lavellan would only want to come with him. _I'm sorry, amatus. I must go away for a while... and I cannot tell you why. This is something I must do by myself._

* * *

Lavellan felt very groggy when he woke up. His head was pounding, and his eyes ached. He'd had some very strange dreams, and trying to recall them made his head hurt more. _Did I really wake up on the battlements?_

Lavellan sat up slowly. He glanced to his right, but Dorian was not there. _Strange, I could have sworn..._ The right side of the bed was still warm, so he had been there, and had only recently left. Lavellan flopped back down onto the bed. What had happened last night?

He soon found out. Having dressed and made his way down to the Great Hall, he was suddenly swamped by Vivienne, Cassandra, Solas, Cole and Varric.

'Wh-what's going on?' Lavellan had asked, surprised by their intensity.

'We're going to the war room,' Cassandra informed him. 'Everyone in Skyhold is looking for answers, so it is better if we all know them before we try explaining to everyone else.'

Cullen, Josephine, Leliana were already in the war room, along with Hawke and Fenris. Lavellan approached the table, feeling unsteady on his feet. Behind them, Dorian entered the room last minute and shut the door. There was a long and tense silence that Lavellan finally had to break.

'All right, who wants to go first?'

'You scared the hell out of me,' Hawke spoke first. 'I've never felt anything like it.'

'The magic you were expelling was powerful enough to make my lyrium markings react.' Fenris added.

'Lights flickering on the battlements, Lavellan goes to war with his own nightmares.' Cole nodded sagely.

'I do not now what happened,' Cassandra told him. 'All I know is that I was having a dream about being back in the Fade, and I could not wake up.'

'I awoke to a feeling of dread,' Vivienne said. 'Things that I am not even afraid of seemed to be walking nightmares.'

'I too had this feeling,' Solas said. 'It was a fear like I have never felt before.'

'Vivienne was jumping at shadows,' Dorian said flippantly. 'I, of course, did not. I knew they were cast by the flames I was holding.'

Vivienne shot him a poisonous look, and Dorian just smiled.

'I was having a similar experience to the Seeker,' Varric reported. 'Only I had no trouble waking up.'

'Dwarves don't have magic,' Cole agreed.

'It seems that the three of us and Cassandra were all experiencing the same thing,' Cullen said slowly, looking at Josephine and Leliana. 'We were having a bad dream, and we couldn't wake up even after we realised we were dreaming.'

'And it would appear that the mages were woken by this magic,' Solas added, looking around the room. 'All of us were woken by the same sensation of being afraid, and though we knew our fear was illogical we could not stop it.'

'So,' Varric looked at Lavellan. 'Now every time the Inquisitor has a nightmare, the Anchor will make sure the whole of Skyhold has one too?'

'Not necessarily,' Solas shook his head. 'The Anchor was built to open and close rifts. It should not have affected everyone else in such a way.'

'The Inquisitor seemed to be possessed,' Hawke put in mildly. 'Can the Anchor control him?'

'I'm right here,' Lavellan sighed, feeling a bit sick. _I was possessed?_

'Maybe the Anchor did try to open a rift,' Solas mused, ignoring Lavellan. 'If the Inquisitor was dreaming of something in particular, perhaps the Anchor was trying to open a rift to reach that place.'

'The Inquisitor thought he was following Stroud,' Cole said gently.

Silence fell over the room as they all turned to look at Lavellan. Lavellan himself was just as confused and horrified as they seemed to be. Following Stroud? Flashes of his nightmare came back to him. Stroud... He choked down whatever emotion the memories could bring to the surface, before they had the chance to overwhelm him.

'We lost Stroud in the Nightmare's lair,' Hawke's voice was quiet, pained. Fenris sharply turned his head to look at him, and Hawke smiled briefly to reassure him that he was all right. 'Was that where the Anchor was trying to get to?'

'It is possible,' Solas acknowledged. 'That would also explain the feeling of dread and fear; the Nightmare's power was bleeding through the cracks made by the attempted creation of a rift.'

'I could have brought the Nightmare through to our world?' Lavellan took a step backwards, staggering slightly. Dorian took a step forwards to try to help, a reflex he hadn't realised he'd developed, but he stopped himself. For just a minute, he looked like he was in pain.

'It's all right,' Hawke said. 'It's over, you're awake, and it probably won't happen again.'

'Well, it might,' Solas argued, and both Hawke and Varric shot him a look.

'Pretty sure Hawke was going for optimism, Chuckles,' the dwarf sighed, and the elf looked at the ground.

'We cannot say for sure that this will not happen again,' Solas pointed out quietly, and when Varric opened his mouth to argue, Solas added, 'How likely is it that the Inquisitor will have another nightmare about Stroud?'

Varric shut his mouth. The silence in the room spoke volumes. _Pretty damn likely._

'I...' Lavellan sighed, feeling the eyes in the room turn on him. 'I need time to think about this.' He turned to go, feeling unbalanced and wobbly. 'I'm not feeling well.'

No-one tried to stop him, not even Dorian. In fact, the altus just watched him go, looking thoughtful. He did not try to follow Lavellan, leaving the Inquisitor to make his way back up to his quarters with shaking legs.

* * *

A knock at the door interrupted Lavellan's reading.

His headache had subsided, but sudden movements created stabbing pains in his temples. Slowly, he eased himself off of the couch and made his way down the stairs to his door. The day a worn on, and the orange glow of the sunset illuminated his room, making swirling dust turn to glitter. It was probably Dorian, wondering why he hadn't come down from his quarters since that meeting in the war room.

Lavellan was surprised to find Fenris on the other side of the door, dressed in his armor again.

'Oh,' Lavellan said, bewildered. _You're not Dorian._ 'Hello.'

'Hello,' Fenris inclined his head. 'May I come in?'

'O-of course.' Lavellan stepped back to admit him, and watched the elf make his way calmly up the stairs and into his quarters. Shutting the door quietly, Lavellan followed. Fenris was standing in the middle of the room, looking around himself with mild interest.

'Are you going somewhere?' Lavellan asked, looking pointedly at his attire.

'Yes,' Fenris turned to face him. 'Hawke and I decided last night that it was time to move on.'

'To Weisshaupt,' Lavellan nodded carefully. 'Of course. I'm glad you're feeling better.'

'But you are not,' Fenris said flatly. 'And that is why I have come.'

'I... I don't know what you mean.' _You, Inquisitor Lavellan, are a terrible liar. Shut up, Dorian_.

'I would like to ask you about what happened in the Fade,' Fenris explained, watching Lavellan's face closely. When the Inquisitor said nothing, he added, 'I would like to know how you made your choice.'

Lavellan stared blankly at him, his mind racing.

When the Inquisitor continued to be silent, Fenris sighed. 'Do you regret saving Hawke?'

'No,' Lavellan blurted. 'No, of course not. I just...' He should really be having this conversation with Dorian. But Dorian had been terrified last night, Lavellan had heard it in his voice, and that had been his fault. _I did that to him._ Dorian needed time to process. No doubt he was avoiding Lavellan now to do just that. 'I just wish I could have saved them both.' He admitted to Fenris, who nodded.

'You feel... responsible?'

'Of course I do!' Lavellan rolled his eyes. 'I sent a man to his death! I chose to let Stroud stay behind. I might as well have killed him myself.' The words were out. Lavellan's grief and guilt were now real, not just wandering thoughts that plagued him. 'I killed Stroud.'

Fenris watched him carefully, seeing the lines of pain appearing in Lavellan's face. 'You had a choice. Why save Hawke?'

Lavellan blinked stupidly at him. 'What?'

'Why save Hawke?' Fenris asked again. 'What motivated that choice? What was your thought process?'

'I didn't really...' Now that he thought about it, why had he chosen Hawke? Not that he regretted it, but why had he chosen him over Stroud? 'Would it sound weird if I said... I thought of you?'

Fenris didn't bat an eyelash. 'Go on.'

'Before we went to Adamant,' Lavellan began slowly. 'I spoke to Hawke, here in Skyhold. And he mentioned you. And there was so much love in his voice when he said your name, and he was so worried about the thought of you getting hurt...' Lavellan closed his eyes, and he could see Stroud. 'Stroud had no family, as far as I could tell. Yes, he was a Grey Warden, and...' _A Warden must rebuild._ 'And he might have helped to guide the remaining Grey Wardens, but...' Lavellan opened his eyes, steadily meeting Fenris' gaze. 'When I thought about Hawke, and what would happen if he died, I couldn't bear the thought. The thought of having to tell Varric that I had ordered Hawke to stay behind, after he'd tried so hard to keep Hawke safe. The thought of you, alone in your mansion, never really knowing what had happened to the man you loved... It was too much.'

An image of Dorian flashed past in his mind's eye. 'I couldn't be the man who had destroyed what you and Hawke have.'

Fenris regarded him in silence, not showing any emotion. Lavellan looked away again, ashamed. Stroud was dead because of him. The others didn't know how to talk to him now that he might be dangerous. Dorian wasn't talking to him, probably out of fear.

Fenris took a step forwards, making Lavellan look up again. 'You see your choice as giving up on Stroud,' he said. 'But I see your choice as deciding to save more people than just Hawke.'

Lavellan stared at him, stunned.

Fenris continued, 'You chose to save Hawke, and all those that cared about him. That list goes beyond just myself and Varric. You made an impossible choice, and you did the best with the circumstances given to you.' A small smile curled his mouth. 'And I am grateful. I am grateful that you saved Hawke.' He placed a hand on the younger elf's shoulder. 'You did not kill Stroud. Stroud died fighting and enemy that he was willing to fight. He would not have offered to do so if he was not completely aware of the consequences. Neither would Hawke,' Fenris added, his jaw tightening. 'But that is a discussion he and I shall be having whilst we travel to Weisshaupt.'

Lavellan felt his eyes grow wide, and to his amazement and distress he found he had to blink back tears. Lavellan never cried, and no tears fell now. Despite the emotion welling in his chest, he managed to smile. 'You're going to make him suffer, right? For almost getting himself killed?'

'Of course.' Fenris straightened up. 'If it is any consolation, were our roles reversed, I would have chosen to save Dorian over Stroud.'

Lavellan must have looked stunned, because Fenris almost laughed. 'Does that surprise you?'

'Well, yes. Dorian is from Tevinter and you, understandably, hate Tevinter.'

'I do not hate Dorian, though.' Fenris shrugged. 'I was distrustful at first, as he is the son of a magister that I have known to use blood magic, not just because he was from Tevinter. And although I know I upset him, I think it may have helped to know exactly what kind of poison had been poured into his father.'

'So that he'd have someone else to blame, and not hate his father forever?' Lavellan suggested.

'Well, yes, I suppose that too. It was mostly a warning to not dabble in blood magic himself.'

'Ah.' Lavellan sighed. 'Of course.'

'But I would still choose to save Dorian. For you.' Lavellan met Fenris' gaze. 'Although he is a mage from Tevinter,' Fenris said. 'He also cares about you. A lot. For a Dalish elf to inspire that much affection in him suggests a strong bond, one that I have no business interfering with.' His eyes shone with understanding as he looked at the awed Inquisitor. 'He was willing to die if that's what it took to stop you from killing yourself. I cannot fault him for that.' Fenris turned to go, making his way across the room.

Lavellan snapped out of his own whirling thoughts. 'Thank you, Fenris.' The elf turned to look at him over his shoulder. 'Thank you,' Lavellan said again. 'I... I needed that.'

'Hawke always listens to me,' Fenris nodded. 'So I have learned that talking helps.'

'Can I ask a question?' Lavellan blurted, taking a step forwards. 'I, uh... That is, if it's too personal, you don't have to answer.'

Fenris turned. 'You may.'

'When did you...' _Ar lath, Dorian. Why did I say that?_ 'When did you first tell Hawke you loved him?'

He saw Fenris stiffen with surprise, and Lavellan grit his teeth, expecting the elf to just leave. But instead, Fenris seemed to seriously consider his answer.

'I think it was after he'd saved my life from the hunters for... the sixth time?' Fenris frowned as he tried to remember. 'I had been poisoned by one of their arrows, and had returned to Kirkwall. My first instinct was to go to Hawke for help, although at the time I did not really know why. Anders was there,' he added, and Lavellan noticed his jaw clench as he pronounced the name. 'I was delirious from blood loss and the poison, and it had been two years since Hawke and I...' He broke off, and Lavellan grimaced.

'If it's too personal, you don't have to tell me, Fenris,' he reminded him, but Fenris shook his head.

'No, you were honest with me, and I owe you for saving Hawke.' He took a breath and continued. 'Two years before, Hawke and I had... slept together. At the time it had felt right, but then it had brought back memories from before I received these markings. Like a coward, I shied away from the pain it brought up, which meant walking out on Hawke. Anders, of course, tried to spend more time with Hawke, but Hawke never reciprocated his feelings. It didn't matter; every time I saw them together I burned with jealousy.'

'So when you saw Anders at Hawke's house...?'

'Yes. I thought they were together. I tried to leave, but Hawke wouldn't let me go.' Fenris' eyes were glazed over with the memory. 'He made sure I stayed, and I slept in his bed that night whilst he healed me. I wouldn't let Anders try; I'd kick, scream and fight every time he went near me. Eventually, Anders went downstairs but Hawke stayed. In the middle of the night, I woke up in a cold sweat, and someone came into the room to check on me. I thought it was Hawke.' Was it Lavellan's imagination, or was Fenris trying to hide a blush? 'I... told him I loved him. I was delirious, as I said, and in pain, and I hadn't meant to say it. But that's how I knew I meant it.'

'So Anders told him?'

'No. Hawke had come up the stairs behind him and had heard me from the doorway.' Fenris rolled his eyes. 'I pretended to faint so that they would both go away.'

Lavellan burst out laughing at this last bit, unable to stop himself. Fenris' eyebrows shot up, but then a smile appeared on his lips. It was the first genuine laugh that he had heard Lavellan utter.

'I'm sorry, Fenris,' Lavellan gasped, shocked at himself. 'I don't mean to laugh.'

'Why not?' Fenris smiled kindly at him, and the change was immediate. _This is Hawke's Fenris,_ Lavellan realised. _This is the man Hawke fell in love with. Not the angry, bitter slave; the kind, lonely elf._ Only he wasn't lonely anymore. 'Hawke still teases me about it, and it's been years since then. I've told him many times since.'

'You told him by accident,' Lavellan mulled over Fenris' words. 'And that's how you knew you meant it.' A slow smile spread across his face. 'Thank you, Fenris.'

'You are welcome,' Fenris inclined his head. 'Has Dorian said it back yet?'

The smile vanished. 'No.' No, he wouldn't. Did he even realise that Lavellan had said it? 'I... told him in Elvish, when I was tired. It was an accident. Dorian doesn't speak Elvish.'

'Then perhaps you should tell him in the common tonuge,' Fenris suggested. For a moment, Lavellan's heart beat wildly at the thought, a mixture of excitement and nerves. But it quickly subsided when he thought about how guarded Dorian was about his feelings, and how he didn't let anyone in, not even Lavellan sometimes.

'I... can't. I don't know if he's ready to hear it.'

Fenris nodded slowly. 'Then I wish you luck, Inquisitor Lavellan.'

' _Dareth shiral,_ Fenris,' Lavellan managed a shaky smile. 'And thank you. For everything you've said.'


	8. Chapter 8

The world around Fenris began to go dark, the the last image he saw was the silhouette of Hawke standing in the doorway, protecting him from harm and hurling fire and lightning out into the dark. He was vaguely aware of Bodahn's arms underneath his shoulders, pulling him further into the house, and then a new voice broke through the gloom. One that Fenris really didn't want to hear.

'Is that Fenris?' Anders asked, sounding surprised. 'What happened?'

'I don't know, messere,' Bodahn replied. 'He was on the doorstep. Master Hawke is fighting off the men who were hunting him.'

'You brought hunters to Hawke's door?' Anders snapped at the semi-conscious Fenris, and if he hadn't felt so lightheaded Fenris would have loved to ram a hand into his chest and rip out his heart.

'N-no,' Fenris hissed, his teeth chattering. 'I... didn't mean to come here.' _I don't want to be here, now that I know you are_.

'And stay out!' Hawke yelled, slamming the front door, and he came into Fenris' limited field of vision.

'Are you all right?' Anders gasped, hurrying over to him and placing a hand on his arm.

'Of course I am,' Hawke scoffed, moving forwards despite Anders trying to block him and dropping into a crouch next to Fenris. 'It's Fenris we need to worry about.'

'He brought hunters to your door, Hawke,' Anders pointed out, angry now. 'You're going to just let him stay?'

Hawke placed a warm palm against Fenris' clammy forehead. _Don't touch me_ , Fenris wanted to say, but the words couldn't find his tongue. 'Yes, Anders. Fenris needs help, so I'm going to help him.'

Anders hunkered down beside Hawke, catching his arm again and nearly overbalancing the taller man. 'Hawke, he's dangerous. And after everything he's done to you...'

' _Anders_ ,' Hawke said sharply, surprising both Anders and Fenris. It was a tone that Hawke didn't use often, because Hawke was hardly ever angry. Anders didn't let go of Hawke's arm though.

'I just want to make sure you're all right,' he insisted, softer this time. Fenris felt sick, and he wasn't sure that it was because of the poison. _Don't talk to him like that_ , Fenris cried out, but his voice wasn't working. _Don't talk to him like you care._ Anders clearly hadn't taken long to replace him at Hawke's side.

Hawke sighed, and then scooped Fenris up into his arms, ignoring the small cry of protest from the elf. 'I'm fine, Fenris isn't. That's all there is to it.' And he began to march up the stairs. Fenris had forgotten that Hawke was taller and more muscular than he was. He'd forgotten what it was like to be in his arms. _I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be allowed to enjoy this. If he's with Anders, then why...?_

Anders watched them go, a fierce jealousy on his face that made Fenris' heart race. Of course Anders would be jealous, he and Fenris hated each other and always seemed to vie for Hawke's attention. For a while, Fenris was so sure that he'd won, but then... _I feel like such a fool._ He still did.

Hawke carefully carried Fenris up to his bedroom, and the elf almost looked like a doll in his powerful arms. Fenris felt more relaxed than he had been in quite a while. Hawke made him feel safe, and Fenris hated that he needed Hawke to make him feel safe. _I want to hate you_ , Fenris thought. _Why do you make it so difficult? You should at least hate me._ But the light faded, and Hawke's face became unfocused as dark dreams swallowed Fenris.

When he awoke, he was lying in Hawke's bed, wearing just a pair of trousers and a loose shirt. They weren't his. Panicked, Fenris cried out, trying to sit up, but realised belatedly whose clothes he was wearing. They smelled of Hawke, not Danarius. Danarius wasn't here, hadn't touched him, hadn't undressed him. Hawke was looking after him, and Hawke had seen him naked before, so it didn't matter.

He sank back into the cushions, trying to make his breathing return to normal. _Why is Anders here, Hawke? Why did you let him in?_

The bedroom door creaked open, and Fenris saw a tall figure enter. For a moment, Fenris froze, his head spinning. Did he know he was awake? What was he supposed to say? He felt feverish and sick, and just wanted Hawke to come and tell him everything was all right. _I hate that I need you._

'Hawke,' he croaked, and the shadow in the room stopped in its tracks. _I hate you. I want to hate you._ 'I love...' Fenris blinked slowly. '...You...' That wasn't what he was trying to say. And was that really his voice? He sounded sickly, weak, fragile. _You make me feel like this. Why can't I hate you?_

The shadow in the doorway gave a low chuckle, breaking the stunned silence. Fenris recognised that silhouette. Oh no. Too late, Fenris realised his mistake. So Fenris' next course of action was simple; to avoid any questions, he gave a low sigh and sank down into the bed, pretending to faint. _I'm a bloody fool._ He cracked one eye open slightly, sure that neither of them could see his face in the dark. Because it felt hot, and Fenris refused to think that he might be blushing. Fever, from the poison. That's all. Poison and fever.

Anders backed away from the bed and towards the door, looking at Hawke in concern, but the man's smile seemed to be fixed into place. 'Leave him, Anders,' Hawke said quietly. 'He's clearly delirious. I'll keep an eye on him.'

Fenris spent the rest of the night pretending he was asleep, all whilst being acutely aware that Hawke was by his side, probably grinning to himself in the dark.

 _I hate you,_ Fenris thought, but he realised that actually, he didn't. Not even a little.

* * *

'Fenris?' Hawke called, snapping Fenris out of his reverie. Hawke had saddled the horses, because he'd refused to allow Fenris to do any long journey on foot ever again, and was standing nearby, saying goodbye to the Inquisitor's advisors. 'Are you all right?'

'Yes,' Fenris said truthfully. 'I was thinking about my talk with the Inquisitor.' He looked at the concerned faces of the Inquisitor's Spymaster, Ambassador and Commander. 'I think you'll find there is nothing to worry about. I don't think the Inquisitor will have a nightmare like that again.'

Joesphine immediately looked relieved, as did Cullen, but Leliana frowned. 'How can you be sure?'

'Like I said, I talked with him,' Fenris replied, glancing at Hawke. 'I think he feels better after finally having spoken to someone about it.'

'Well, that's all right then,' Hawke beamed. 'He'll back to his old self in no time.'

'I would have liked to apologise to Dorian,' Fenris said mildly, ignoring Hawke's incredulous look. 'But I could not find him.'

'I think he said something about running an errand to a nearby town,' Cullen said with a polite smile, although Fenris noticed Leliana and Josephine exchange a glance. 'When he returns, I'll let him know.'

'Thank you,' Fenris inclined his head, and moved away to let Hawke finish his goodbyes. _Good luck, Inquisitor,_ he thought.

* * *

Lavellan walked steadily down the corridor, feeling better than he had in a long while. _I didn't kill Stroud,_ he told himself firmly. _Stroud was a hero, and I will honor his memory, not insult it._ He would keep telling himself that until he believed it. Now he needed to talk to Dorian. He needed Dorian to understand that he would never scare him like that again, and that he was sorry, and that... That he loved him. Lavellan clenched his fists. _Ar lath, Dorian_.

He wasn't in the library, so Lavellan went to his room. He knocked, but there was no answer. Frowning, hoping Dorian wasn't hiding from him, he knocked again, harder this time, and the door opened slightly. It wasn't locked. Feeling guilty, Lavellan called out, 'Dorian? Are you there?' But still there was no response.

Pressing a palm carefully against the wood, Lavellan slowly pushed the door open, expecting a fireball to come hurtling towards his face at any minute. But Dorian wasn't in his room. He'd gone out and left it unlocked. Lavellan stood frowning in the doorway, wondering what to do next. He saw a piece of parchment on the floor down the side of Dorian's bed, and remembered the letter he'd been reading. The letter he'd tried to keep Lavellan from reading.

Lavellan padded across the room to the parchment, gingerly picking it up and glancing over his shoulder, expecting Dorian to come back any moment. _I really shouldn't be doing this._ But it was too late now, he had committed to the task. Unfolding the letter, Lavellan was taken aback by its contents. As he continued to read, he could feel his heart sinking.

 _Dorian,_

 _I know it has been a long time since we last saw each other, but I am in the south and heard that you are in Skyhold. I desperately wish to see you, my love. It has been too long since I last beheld your face. So much has happened in the Imperium, and we must discuss it. I can't believe you have survived down here for so long with these savages. Is it true that the Inquisitor is in fact a Dalish elf? How awful!_

 _Meet me, Dorian, please. You owe me that at least. I will wait for you in my camp, stationed in Emprise du Lion. It should only be a day's ride for you, but for me it shall feel like an eternity. Do not delay, love. What I have to say cannot wait, and is not safe to be disclosed in a letter._

 _Magister Raphaela Senopianus_

 _(Former Apprentice to Magister Athanir Tilani)_

Lavellan slowly folded the letter again, and carefully put it back where he had found it. He shouldn't have read that, Dorian would be furious. Lavellan walked back out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. There was a strange hollow feeling in his chest. So, Dorian had left to meet a friend, in Emprise du Lion. That was fine. Dorian was his own person. Lavellan had absolutely no problem with him meeting a friend. _Why did she call him "love", then?_ Asked the small voice in his head that he'd been trying desperately to ignore. _And why didn't he just tell you about it?_

'Shut up,' Lavellan told himself, making his way towards the gardens. Dorian could do what he wanted. He was his own person, and he didn't need Lavellan running after him all the time. In fact, he'd probably be furious if he knew that Lavellan had even read the letter. He was distracted from his own thoughts by Josephine, hurrying towards him.

'Inquisitor,' she panted. 'I... I wasn't completely honest, earlier. About Dorian, and the letter. I want to tell you what it said.'

* * *

Dorian reached Emprise du Lion by midday the next day. He was exhausted from travelling, and was fed up because of the cold. It was snowing, for crying out loud. You hardly ever saw snow in Tevinter. He was also annoyed because he hadn't seen Lavellan before he left. But he couldn't tell him what he was doing, because Lavellan might get the wrong idea or, worse still, try to come with him. And it wouldn't do to walk both of them into a trap. _I'm sorry, amatus. I won't lose you._

Raphaela had written the letter purposely to rile Dorian up; it was full of expressions that could be misinterpreted, like her insistent use of "my love". It almost sounded like... Well, knowing Tevinter nobles as he did, it had read like a letter sent between husband and wife. And he'd known Raphaela for all of thirty minutes. So why was she suddenly interested in contacting him, and why was she writing in such a way?

He had been running from home, knowing that Magister Pavus would be sending guards to look for him and drag him back if need be. But Dorian was adamant that he would get to the south, one way or another, and help the Inquisition fight the Breach. Somebody had to do something, but as usual Tevinter was indifferent. It was a southern problem, not something that the Imperium need concern itself with.

Raphaela had found him hiding in the cellar, having broken into a grand house to hide without checking to see whose house it was. When he discovered it belonged to Magister Tilani, he had groaned, and was trying to decide on a better escape route. Then Raphaela had agreed to help him get out using a secret passage, had pressed some gold coins into his palm and had ordered an elven slave to guide him out through the tunnels.

Dorian grit his teeth in frustration. If he'd known then... If he hadn't been so preoccupied with his own troubles... He halted outside a small encampment, frowning at the collection of tents. All of them seemed to belong to refugees, fleeing the weather and the war. He had no way of telling whether Raphaela was here or not.

His doubt was curbed a moment later. From one of the tents, a slave emerged; a thin, elderly elf who gazed up at Dorian with milky eyes. He recognised the elf's rank by the collar he wore, but also by his subservient attitude. 'My mistress bids you welcome, my lord,' the elf bowed, wisps of white hair tumbling down his forehead. For a moment, Dorian imagined Lavellan with a collar around his slender neck. It made his stomach turn.

He dismounted and followed the ancient slave back into the tent he'd come from. It was considerably warmer in here than it was out there, and Dorian stamped his feet to try and get some feeling back into them. Sitting in the centre of the large tent, on a chair that was even more austere than that awful thing Lavellan had to sit on for judgements, was Magister Raphaela Senopianus. She had changed a lot in the months that Dorian had been away from Tevinter. She was surrounded by guards and slaves as she lounged on her makeshift throne; the power had clearly gone to her head. She was wearing a skimpy dress of deep purple, her pale blue eyes flashing at Dorian as she lifted one bare leg to cross it over her covered one. Dorian was suitably unimpressed.

'Raphaela,' Dorian said politely, forcing a smile. 'What a pleasant surprise. Whatever are you doing this far south?'

' _Magister_ Raphaela,' she corrected with a smile as charming as a snake's. _Definitely a trap._ Dorian tried not to sigh. 'I'm here for you, Dorian dear.'

'Oh? You came all this way just to visit me?'

'Visit? Oh no,' her smile widened. _Shark,_ he thought. 'I've come to take you back to Tevinter.'

'Sorry,' Dorian didn't switch off the smile. 'I'm not interested. Thank you all the same. Enjoy Emprise du Lion, it's delightful this time of year.'

He turned to go, but his way was blocked by grim-faced slaves. He could easily force his way past them, but something stayed his hand.

'What's wrong, Dorian?' Raphaela purred, flicking a black curl over her shoulder. 'They're only _elves._ '

 _Lavellan._ Dorian turned back to face her, slow and deliberate, and met her gaze. _She knows about Lavellan._ 'You're not here for me, are you?'

'I actually am.' She gave a tinkling laugh. It grated on his nerves. 'But you can help me with something else, Dorian. After all, I helped you. What would it do to your father's legacy if it got around that his son doesn't repay his debts?'

Blackmail, then. 'What do you want?' Dorian asked through gritted teeth.

'Oh, I'm so glad you asked!' Her eyes glittered, and behind them he saw a viper. 'I am a brand new magister, you see, and a while back I gave you some gold, a slave and a way out of Minrathous. Now you need to pay me for my services. So,' she sat back in her chair, pressing her fingertips together. 'I want you to do something for me. And it will involve your precious Inquisition.'

'I won't hurt them,' Dorian snapped, momentarily letting his mask slip. 'If you're asking me to betray them, then your gamble with the lives of these elves will not end well for you.'

'Don't be silly,' Raphaela snorted. 'I just want you to tell them in person that you're returning to Tevinter. And that you're getting married. To me.'

' _Married?_ ' Dorian exploded.

'You owe me, Dorian. As I said, I am a new magister. I need influence. Marrying into a house like yours will not only secure your family an heir, but will also bolster my influence.' Dorian opened his mouth to object, but Raphaela held his gaze. Something in Dorian's stomach twisted, and his mind fogged over. It was getting hard to concentrate. Was it the heat...? 'Marry me, Dorian, and you'll make your father happier than he's ever been.' He couldn't look away. Her smile returned, and he didn't like it; it made him feel cold. 'Disobey me, and it won't just be your reputation I destroy.' Magic burned in her eyes, will and desire and blood. 'It will be your precious Inquisitor too.'

Two guards came forwards, each taking hold of one of Dorian's arms. Dorian, to his surprise and horror, found he couldn't resist. It got worse when his hand let go of his staff without his permission, and it clattered to the floor. Raphaela stood, walking towards him slowly. Dorian tried to struggle, but his strength was failing him. What was happening? For a second, a thought composed of complete clarity fluttered through his mind. _I should have told Lavellan where I was going_.

'Now then,' Raphaela smiled, drawing a dagger from her skirts. 'As you are a mage, and an altus at that, you will be able to resist my spell after a while. But fear not, I have taken measures to avoid this.' She pressed the dagger to Dorian's left palm, and flicked her wrist. Dorian yelled in pain as his hand opened up, and a thin spattering of blood hit the rugs covering the cold, hard ground.

'I just need a small sample,' she giggled, her tongue flicking out and catching a small bead of blood that had been about to fall from the tip of the blade. 'And now, I can get to work.'


	9. Chapter 9

Lavellan sat on the stone railing of his balcony, overlooking Skyhold. From here he could see the gates, so he'd spot Dorian when he returned. It had almost been two days since he'd last seen him. _Two days._ Lavellan was almost going out of his mind with worry. He knew it took a day to ride to Emprise du Lion from here, maybe a little longer if the weather was bad, but it was drawing into evening and Dorian still hadn't come through the gates. He hadn't left for good, because all of his effects were still in his room, but something felt wrong.

 _It was a trap, wasn't it Dorian?_ He asked the absent mage. _Why didn't you just tell me about it?_

For the hundredth time in the past two days, Lavellan got up, walked over to where his staff leaned against a wall, and just before he picked it up he hesitated. Dorian would be so angry if Lavellan just turned up in Emprise du Lion, and it really had just been a meeting between two friends. But was it just a meeting? Lavellan had a sense of foreboding that he couldn't shake. _I need to talk to you, Dorian. Please, ma vhenan, just come back_.

* * *

Josephine's mouth had fallen open in surprise when Lavellan had told her what he knew. 'You have read it? Dorian showed it to you?'

'Not exactly,' Lavellan had shifted uncomfortably. 'I sort of... read it whilst he wasn't there.'

'So you have guessed he has gone to Emprise du Lion,' Josephine said. 'It could be a trap, or a Venatori plot.'

Lavellan had clenched his fists so tight that his knuckles had turned white. 'Dorian has had this letter for almost a _week_. Why didn't he just tell me about it?'

'I do not know, Inquisitor, but I am glad you are aware of the situation. Would you like me to send someone after him? Or perhaps pursue him yourself?'

Lavellan was willing to _run_ all the way to Emprise du Lion, if that was what it took. But Dorian must have chosen to not tell him about it for a good reason... There was something else going on, and Dorian clearly wanted to do it by himself. _You fool._ 'No,' Lavellan sighed. 'I trust Dorian, even if he didn't tell me about this. We'll leave it for a while, see if he comes back. If he's gone for longer than three days, I'll ride to Emprise du Lion myself and drag him back if I have to.'

* * *

The sound of hooves on stone made him look towards the window again. _Dorian?_ He rushed to the balcony, and sure enough, a cloaked figure on horseback came through the gates. _He's back._

Lavellan sprinted down the stairs and out into the Great Hall, heading for the stables. Blackwall was inside, talking to the cloaked figure. Lavellan slowed to a stop, suddenly uncertain. _Would he talk to me about it? Is there a reason he's hiding things from me?_ Dorian threw back his hood, his reply making Blackwall give a booming laugh.

Dorian glanced up and saw Lavellan walking towards himself and Blackwall, his demeanor calm and collected. But Dorian knew he'd been waiting for him to return; his taut shoulders and clenched fists told him so. _So, I'll have to explain myself then._

'Dorian,' Lavellan smiled, but it didn't reach his anxious eyes. 'Where did you disappear to?'

'Just visiting a friend, Inquisitor,' Dorian smiled back, but it was shallow and insincere. _Why did you have to wait for me?_

'Can I talk to you?' Lavellan asked politely, and Dorian suppressed a sigh.

'Of course.'

They left the stables, and neither one of them said anything. Dorian knew that face; the furrowed brow, the determined gaze, the tense way in which he carried himself, all of these things were signs that the Inquisitor was very upset. Dorian had left without saying anything, after all, and had just thrown a passing "errand" comment at Cullen as he rode out of the gates, which was vague and unhelpful. Still Lavellan said nothing, which made Dorian's heart flutter anxiously. For a moment he wondered if something had happened whilst he was gone.

Lavellan didn't say anything until they reached his quarters. Somehow, Dorian had followed him up there, even though for the first time in his life he really hadn't wanted to. Lavellan stood facing the balcony, his back to Dorian, making the mage feel worse than he already did. _Please, amatus..._

'Where were you?' Lavellan asked, his voice level.

'I told you, I was visiting a friend.'

'Where?'

Dorian had traveled a long way, and didn't appreciate Lavellan's even, unemotional tone. Dorian couldn't tell if he wanted Lavellan to be more upset, or if he was irritated because Lavellan _was_ upset and trying to hide it. 'I don't see how that's any of your business.'

Lavellan turned to face him now, moving slowly. 'What do you mean?' There was a small, hard light in his eyes, and it didn't quite match the calm voice. Ah. Lavellan was annoyed at him. He hadn't been annoyed _at_ Dorian for quite some time. _After what I've just come back from, amatus, that doesn't seem fair somehow._

'It shouldn't matter where I go, surely? I thought you trusted me.' Dorian sulked, but it was the wrong thing to say.

' _Don't trust you?_ ' Lavellan asked, his quiet voice tight with rage. 'Why don't you trust me? You've been gone for _two days_ , Dorian, and you didn't say anything.' His anger faded, and he suddenly looked sad. 'It's my fault, isn't it? You don't trust me anymore because of what happened that night, when the Anchor possessed me.' He looked away, shame in his eyes. 'You're scared of me.'

 _No amatus, no. It wasn't your fault. I couldn't turn my back on you._ 'It's not like that,' Dorian managed. Another voice invaded his mind, and suddenly Dorian felt sluggish and tired. _Remember your promise, Dorian. Disobey me and I'll destroy your Inquisitor_.

Lavellan was watching him carefully, pain showing in his expression. 'You were afraid. Weren't you? Of me?'

 _I was afraid of losing you. Tsk tsk, Dorian. You can't say that._ 'N-no, of course not. I just... went to see a friend.' _Get out of my head,_ he commanded, but the voice wouldn't go. _Not until you do it._

Dorian seemed to be struggling with his words, and it alarmed Lavellan. He took a step closer. 'What's wrong, Dorian? Talk to me, please.'

'I-I can't,' Dorian gasped, frowning miserably. _Tell him there's nothing to say.'_ 'There's nothing to say.'

'Nothing?' Lavellan laughed in disbelief. 'Dorian, you've been gone for _two days._ ' Dorian's eyes seemed to be unfocused. 'Are you... all right?'

 _Tell him you're fine._ 'I'm fine.' _You're just tired._ 'I'm just tired.' No matter how hard Dorian fought the voice, it seemed to have a hold on him. Will and desire and blood. Dorian had a sick feeling in his stomach that made him want to lay down and curl into a ball.

'I needed to talk to you,' Lavellan said anxiously. 'It's... It's really important.'

 _Please, amatus, not now. Walk away then, Dorian._ Dorian began to back away. 'I really need to go, Inquisitor.'

'But it's important!' Lavellan said, and then blinked. 'Why are you calling me Inquisitor?'

 _Because I can't stop myself. Because you've had some time to think._ 'B-because I...' _Say it._ 'Because I've had some time to think.'

'Time to think?' Lavellan's face dropped, and Dorian nearly bit his own tongue off when he tried to take back what he'd just said. 'I don't understand.'

 _This thing we have, it's not going to work._ 'Th-this thing we h-have...' Dorian tried to force the words back, but he couldn't stop it. 'It's not... going to work.'

'What are you saying?' Lavellan asked, hurt in his eyes. 'Dorian, you don't sound like yourself.'

 _I'm not myself!_ Dorian screamed. _Lavellan, get out of here, stop talking to me!_ But his mouth said, 'It's just something I've been thinking about lately.'

'Why?' Lavellan's voice made Dorian's chest ache. It was a small, fragile voice that he'd never heard the elf use. _Please,_ Dorian begged. _Please stop this. Let me go_.

 _I need you, Dorian. I need your influence. I need an heir._

 _Choose anyone else. You have the entire Magisterium on your doorstep, you could pick any one of them. Why are you doing this to me?_

 _Because I've wanted you since that night, Dorian. When I realised who you were, I had to have you. And when I found out you'd gone to the south, and that you'd managed to bed the Inquisitor, I was so impressed. I need a man like you. Someone who is so good at the Game that he's managed to convince the dread Inquisitor to pleasure him, and most likely thank him for the honor._

 _You're talking about him like he's... Like he's just a piece of flesh!_

 _He is, my love. He's just an elf._

'Well,' Dorian's mouth said slowly. 'Ever since Adamant, things have been... different. Do you not think so?'

Lavellan stared at him, naked disbelief and hurt all over his face. 'But...' Dorian watched helplessly as Lavellan fought to control his emotions. 'I-I spoke to Fenris, and I realised that I've been holding myself back, letting my grief rule me. I chose to save Hawke because I couldn't...' Lavellan met Dorian's eyes. 'Imagine if that had been you, Dorian. Would you have picked me, or Stroud?'

 _You. Of course I'd save you._ 'It depends which would be more useful, for the greater good of Thedas.' _Stop it,_ Dorian screamed. _You're hurting him. Please, I'll do anything else, just not this_.

 _But this is what I want, Dorian. You need to give up your toy sooner or later. Other magisters might want to use him if you brought him along to Tevinter. Unless you want that?_

The thought of anyone _using_ Lavellan almost made Dorian throw up. He visibly paled, and Lavellan saw a panic build in his eyes. Something was seriously wrong.

'Dorian, you're... You're tired, and clearly upset about something.' Lavellan said, ignoring the pain in his chest. _Why would you say those things, Dorian?_ 'You know you can talk to me. You can tell me anything.'

 _Please don't do this, Raphaela._ 'I can't.' _Please, let it end here. Just stop this._ Dorian turned and began to walk away, back towards the stairs. He was relieved; Raphaela seemed to have some mercy in her after all.

' _Ar lath_ , Dorian,' Lavellan called after him, the words seeming to burst out of him in their urgent need to be heard. Dorian froze, and he could feel Raphaela pricking her ears up. _No. No, Lavellan, don't._

Dorian slowly turned around to face him again. Lavellan took a breath. ' _Ar lath ma_. I never told you what it meant. Do you still want to know?'

 _No. I don't want you to say it._ _You won't be saying it to me._ 'Yes.' _Raphaela,_ Dorian roared. _Get out of my head!_

'It means "I love you", Dorian,' Lavellan said, and Dorian could see what it cost him to say it. 'I love you.'

 _I..._ He couldn't finish that sentence. _Oh, what's this? You can't say it back, Dorian? Too scared?_ 'I... I can't... I don't need to hear this right now.'

Dorian had to watch as, for the briefest second, Lavellan's world fell apart. It didn't last long, and Lavellan quickly managed to tuck it all behind a cool mask, but that second felt like an eternity of agony to Dorian. He turned and quickly walked away, leaving Lavellan behind in his quickly darkening room.

* * *

 _You bitch,_ Dorian snarled. Despite never being one to cry, he actually wanted to, but he wasn't in control of his body anymore. _How dare you?_

Far away in Emprise du Lion, Raphaela was laughing. _Don't be silly, Dorian. That was priceless! Did you see his face?_

 _Yes, I did._ Dorian seethed with a hot, white rage, but to everyone who looked at him his face was a cool mask. _I'll kill you for that._

 _Idle threats do you no credit,_ she scoffed. _Now you'll_ marry _me, Dorian, not kill me_.

 _I don't make idle threats._ He walked back to the stables, picked the most well rested horse, and took off into the night.

* * *

Lavellan stood in the gathering dark, staring at nothing in particular. His mind was blank. He expected anger, heartbreak, misery, grief, but none of these things came. He was strangely empty. Shock, he supposed.

For some reason, Cole appearing next to him did not surprise him at all. 'Hello, Cole.'

'You're hurting,' Cole gasped, struck by the deadpan voice Lavellan produced. 'You're hurting so badly. I want to help.'

'I don't think you can,' Lavellan sighed. 'But thank you.' He still didn't feel anything yet. It was much worse than just crying.

'Something was wrong with Dorian,' Cole was saying urgently, his eyes wide and frightened.

 _No kidding._ 'What was it?'

'He's screaming on the inside, it's like what his father tried to do but worse, much worse, because she actually succeeded. He's scared, and he's hurting, and he's hurting worse because he's hurting you. He's screaming but no-one can hear him. Can't you hear him, Lavellan?'

Lavellan looked at Cole as if he was only just seeing him for the first time. The hollow feeling was slowly replaced by something cold and fierce. ' _She?_ '

* * *

'Where are we going, Boss?' Iron Bull asked, following Lavellan as the elf strode forwards, his staff in his hand and a glint in his eyes. Sera and Cole were not far behind, Cole looking anxious and Sera looking excited.

'Are we going to stick some nobs full of little arrows?' She giggled. 'I'm well up for that.'

'Dorian's hurting, and he's getting further away,' Cole said.

Lavellan mounted the horse that had been readied for him, and turned in he saddle to look at them. Only then did they see just how angry he was.

'In answer to your question, Bull,' Lavellan said, his voice flat, level, showing no hint of emotion. Cole and Sera flinched at every word, and even Iron Bull gulped, suddenly sweating. 'We are travelling to Emprise du Lion. We're going to kill a blood mage who has kidnapped Dorian and is using his body like a puppet. Sera, feel free to bring as many arrows as you like.' He turned away, his eyes fixed on the gates. 'Any more questions?'

His three companions silently climbed onto their horses, following the Inquisitor out of Skyhold and into the mountains beyond.

Varric stood in the doorway of the Great Hall, watching them go. Cole had told him everything before heading to the stables, and as Cassandra approached he sighed.

'What was that about?' she asked, frowning. 'Why was the Inquisitor in such a rush? He seemed furious about something.'

Varric told her.

Cassandra's mouth dropped open in horror. 'What?!'

'I know,' Varric sighed. 'Come on, we'd better tell his advisors. And no doubt Blackwall, Solas and Vivienne will want to be kept in the loop.'

* * *

Dorian was drained by the time he had returned to Emprise du Lion. He felt sick, his head hurt and every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lavellan's face. The pain in his eyes, the hurt caused by the words Dorian had uttered... _I will kill you, Raphaela,_ he promised, in case she was still listening.

He entered the tent, and Raphaela was sitting on her throne, holding a small vial with Dorian's blood in it. She turned it over in her hands, smiling that snake smile at him. 'Dorian, darling,' she purred. 'I'm so glad to see you made it back safe and sound.'

Dorian growled something intelligible, and she just laughed. 'If that was another threat, Dorian dear, then you've really been down in the south too long. You're turning into a barbarian!'

Her eyes glittered, and her smile took on a hard edge. 'You know, Dorian, as I am a magister and you are just an altus, I think I would like you to be an obedient husband. Doesn't that seem fair?'

'Let me go,' Dorian spat. 'You got what you wanted, the Inquisitor hates me.' _He hates me._

'What, and let you try to run back to him, begging for forgiveness?' She snorted. 'Not likely. And I'm the one giving orders around here, not you.' She rose from her chair, her eyes blazing with chaotic red magic. ' _On your knees,_ ' she commanded, and even though he tried to fight it, Dorian sank to his knees. This was by far the worst trap he'd walked into. _Idiot,_ he hissed at himself. _If you had just told Lavellan, instead of trying to protect him, this would never have happened_.

'That's much better,' Raphaela giggled. 'Now then, thank me for freeing you from those savages. Go on.'

 _No._ Dorian struggled, gritting his teeth to stop the words escaping. _I will not thank you for hurting Lavellan._ Her eyes narrowed, and Dorian gasped as a sharp pain lanced up his spine. _I won't._ He stretched upwards, still on his knees, his back bending upwards and backwards, as far as it would go. The pain was nearly unbearable.

One of the guards stepped forwards, slamming the hilt of his sword against Dorian's face hard, making him cry out as blue spots danced across his vision. He'd lost his concentration. ' _Say thank you_ ,' Raphaela hissed.

'Thank you,' Dorian gasped, hating himself for it, blinking hard to try and clear his vision. His head was spinning, and he was pretty sure he would have collapsed if Raphaela's blood magic wasn't holding him in place. She watched him with the same interest a cat might watch a crippled mouse, and then her smile returned.

Dorian cried out again as he was stretched up and back again, his knees glued to the floor as the rest of his body twisted in agony. 'Tell me you're going to marry me, Dorian.' He was going to be torn in half at this rate. _You won't win._ 'Tell me that you love me, Dorian.' _I'd rather die._ 'Say it!' she shrieked, and lighting flew from her fingertips, striking Dorian in the chest.

Dorian screamed.


	10. Chapter 10

Dorian screamed.

The door and wall of the tent was ripped away, letting cold air and light seep in. Raphaela gasped, releasing her hold on Dorian, who sank to the floor, shivering. Sera, Iron Bull and Cole spilled through the gap. The slaves in the tent scattered, looking for any exit. The guard closest to the group was felled by Iron Bull's axe in one blow, whilst the other caught one of Sera's arrows in the throat. Both lifeless bodies slumped to the floor. Cole snaked forwards and tried to strike Raphaela, but she hurled a bolt of lightning at him.

'No,' Dorian gasped, but he needn't have bothered. A wall of arcane energy sprang up between Cole and Raphaela's attack, absorbing the blood mage's magic. Cole turned to look over his shoulder, and then backed away from the magister.

Dorian managed to get to his feet, forcing himself upright, and Lavellan marched into the tent. His eyes were fixed on Raphaela's face, and though his own was impassive, the air around him whirled in a maelstrom of fury. _The wrath of the Inquisitor is terrible indeed,_ Dorian had quipped once when Lavellan had pretended to be annoyed at him over something trivial. He realised now that he had never seen him truly angry until this moment.

Lavellan stopped when he was standing in front of Raphaela, who was trying to regain control of the situation. 'Stay back,' she hissed. She clutched the vial to her chest. _She really believes she's invincible,_ Dorian realised. _She thinks she's so powerful that no-one can touch her._ Dorian certainly hadn't been able to. 'If you come any closer, Dorian is dead. I'd rather kill him than give him to you.'

Lavellan lashed out so fast Dorian barely saw it; one minute the vial was in Raphaela's hands, the next it was in Lavellan's. Raphaela couldn't seem to believe it either. The elf was closely examining the vial in his left hand, not paying attention to Raphaela anymore. She made to grab for it, but without even looking at her Lavellan hit her with a blast of magic, knocking her off of her feet.

'Is this Dorian's blood?' He asked quietly as Raphaela staggered to her feet. The magister was so far gone that she didn't even seem to understand that she'd already been beaten.

'How dare you strike me, you knife-eared-'

'Is this Dorian's blood?' Lavellan asked again. He didn't raise his voice; that was the worst part.

Raphaela suddenly realised exactly how much trouble she was in. 'Yes,' she breathed.

Lavellan said nothing, just turned his eyes back to the vial. He watched the dark liquid swirl as he moved his hand, and Dorian noticed the almost imperceptible fluttering of a muscle along his jaw.

'Listen,' Raphaela said. 'Inquisitor. We can work out a deal, you and I-'

Lavellan hit her so hard that she was unconscious before she hit the ground.

'Andraste's flaming _arse_ ,' Sera whistled, at last breaking the heavy silence. 'Good hit, Inky.'

'I thought you wanted to kill her, Boss,' Iron Bull said.

'Lavellan doesn't use blood magic,' Cole told him softly. 'If there's a spell he can't see, if there's still a threat... He won't risk Dorian.'

Lavellan tucked the vial into his robe, and then turned on his heel. He marched straight up to Dorian, inspecting him carefully. The mage was a mess. His white robe was stained from dust and dirt, he had blood running down the left side of his face from a cut on his forehead, he had scorch marks on his chest, and he was almost trembling with the effort of just standing up. The sight made Lavellan angry.

'You're a mess, Dorian,' he said flatly.

'A... hot mess?' Dorian tried tiredly, but there wasn't even a flicker of mirth in Lavellan's expression. 'Or not. Inquisitor.'

'You left Skyhold without telling anyone.'

'Yes, Inquisitor.'

'You knowingly walked into a trap.'

'Yes, Inquisitor.'

'You could have been killed.'

'...Yes, Inquisitor.'

' _Then what were you thinking?_ ' Lavellan shouted, his composure shredded at last. The cold rage was replaced by plain old anger. Anger out of love. He grabbed the front of Dorian's robe, bunching the material in his fists. _Hold on tight, never let him go again._ Dorian flinched, but didn't pull away. ' _You stupid man!_ ' Lavellan shouted at him. 'You could have been killed, and no-one would ever have known! How could you be so selfish? What would we do if you had died, or been taken back to Tevinter? _What would I do, Dorian?_ '

Dorian was speechless. _You're supposed to hate me._ But to his surprise and horror, Lavellan's eyes filled with tears. 'For someone so clever, you're so stupid,' Lavellan howled. He let go of Dorian's robe and hit him in the chest with both hands. 'You could have told me. You should have told me!' He hit him again, and again. 'I would never have known! You could have died and I would never have known.' He broke off his assault, panting, and pressed his hands to Dorian's chest, his head bent.

Sera and Iron Bull glanced at each other, and respectfully turned to leave. Cole shot Dorian a brief smile before following them. 'He's fixing the hurt,' he told him quietly, and disappeared outside.

Lavellan stayed where he was, feeling spent now that he'd gotten his emotional outburst over and done with. He'd heard Dorian scream, and something in him had just snapped. Everything he looked at was sharpened by rage, defined in bright light and colours, and he'd very nearly killed that blood mage. He'd _wanted_ to.

'Why didn't you just tell me?' Lavellan asked quietly, closing his eyes. 'I thought I'd lost you.'

Dorian forced himself to break his stunned silence. 'That wasn't me, saying those things,' he blurted. 'I would never... I never meant to...' He sighed. This wasn't coming out right. His head was spinning too much to conjure up full sentences. 'I'm sorry I hurt you, Luvian.'

Lavellan looked up at him, tears still in his eyes but not falling. 'You're so stupid,' he said. He grabbed Dorian's collar with both hands. 'Don't scare me like that again.' And he pulled Dorian down into a kiss, startling the Tevinter mage. _You should hate me,_ Dorian thought, surprised but relieved to feel Lavellan's mouth pressed hard against his own. _After what I said... What I did..._

Lavellan broke away, blushing furiously. 'I'll stop before I say something I'll regret.' He released Dorian and turned to leave.

'What were you going to say?' Dorian called after him.

Lavellan stopped, but didn't look back. 'It was something you don't want to hear.' And he left the tent.

 _No..._ Dorian sat in a nearby chair for support, his legs no longer up to the task. _No, Luvian, I do want to hear it._

* * *

Dorian sat up abruptly, panting and looking around wildly. He was back in Skyhold, safe in his own bed, surrounded by thick, feather pillows. Of course. He relaxed back into the bed, and suddenly became aware of another presence beside him. The room was not in complete darkness; to his left was Lavellan, propped into a sitting position by pillows and reading by the light of the candle on the bedside table.

'Are you all right?' The elf asked gently, his eyes fixed on the book.

'Yes, of course I am,' Dorian said. 'Although I admit to being a tad surprised to see you here.' _I said those horrible things..._

'You've been having nightmares all night, Dorian,' Lavellan replied tiredly. 'I gave up coming to check on you and decided to just stay here.'

'Oh.' That was insufficient. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome. Now go back to sleep.'

Dorian snuggled down, watching Lavellan's face timidly. The elf concentrated on his reading, but Dorian could see grey shadows under his eyes and lines of worry creasing his brow. 'Don't you want to know what my nightmare was about?'

'What's the point in asking? You never tell me the truth.'

 _Ouch._ Dorian winced. _That hurt. But I suppose I deserved that._

Upon their return to Skyhold, maybe six hours earlier, Lavellan had ushered Dorian to his bed chamber, where the healers had fussed over Dorian with obvious glee. They'd cleaned up his cuts and scrapes, and made sure no lasting damage had been done, and then sent him to bed with a thumping headache and the report that his death wasn't imminent. The whole time, Lavellan had maintained a watchful silence in the corner, leaning against a wall with his arms folded. _He's still a bit angry, then._ Then the Inquisitor had left, and Dorian had fallen asleep, and he didn't remember much after that.

'I think it's obvious what it was about,' Dorian said mildly. When Lavellan said nothing, he pressed on. 'I was dreaming of you, in the tent.'

Lavellan froze midway through turning a page. _He's listening then._ Dorian licked his suddenly dry lips, letting the fears and pain of his nightmare return to him. 'I've never seen you so angry before.'

Lavellan turned the page, and continued reading. Or pretending to read. 'Were you angry because of Raphaela-' he didn't notice, but he flinched as he pronounced the name. '-Or because of me?' Still the elf said nothing. It was absolutely maddening.

'I understand that you're angry,' Dorian said, his confidence waning as his heart sank. 'But I... I thought I was doing the right thing. It was a mistake, I grant you, but I...' Still no reaction. 'I didn't mean what I said, when I got back to Skyhold. It wasn't me, it was...' His voice failed him. The sight of a silent and drawn Lavellan had defeated him.

 _I wanted to protect you. I've watched you walk into darkness over and over, and I've nearly lost you too many times. I never knew that anyone could mean this much to me. It's terrifying. And I wish you understood that._ To his dismay, Dorian's vision became clouded, and he felt a tear escape and slide down his nose. He quickly hid his face under the covers, hoping Lavellan hadn't noticed. His amatus didn't say anything, but Dorian heard him close his book and then the light went out.

'What are you-?' Dorian began to ask, his voice thick with emotion, and then he felt Lavellan's hand on his head, stroking his hair. Dorian peeked out from under the covers, confused, and looked up at the silhouette of Lavellan. The elf hadn't moved, and his hand continued its soothing motion.

'You don't like anyone seeing you cry,' Lavellan's voice floated out of the dark. 'Especially not me.'

Dorian broke then. It all came flooding back; that tent. The slaves, making him imagine Lavellan with a slave's collar. The pain, that excricating pain. The fact that he couldn't control his own body, his own thoughts. Lavellan's face when Dorian had said he didn't want to hear the words "I love you". Raphaela's high pitched giggle as she watched him twist in agony. The Fade. Almost losing Lavellan at Adamant. Almost losing Lavellan to nightmares at Skyhold. Almost losing Lavellan to his own weakness, his own stupidity. All the other times he's almost lost Lavellan.

Lavellan slid further under the covers, so that he was at pretty much the same level as the man. Dorian reached out for him in the dark. His fingers brushed against the thin material of Lavellan's shirt and he clung on for dear life. Lavellan's arms found their way around his shoulders, and Dorian pressed his face to Lavellan's chest, shaking and sobbing against him. The elf rested his lips against Dorian's hair and held him as he cried, and Dorian cried as he had done only once before - when his father had tried to change him. Lavellan had not been there then; Dorian's tears had been lost to the dark.

'I'm sorry,' Dorian sobbed, trembling in Lavellan's arms and breaking the elf's heart with the pain in his voice. 'I'm sorry, Luvian. I...'

Lavellan hushed him gently, brushing his fingers through Dorian's hair. 'It's all right, _ma vhenan_. You're all right now.' He sighed, closing his eyes. 'I'm sorry too.'

'You're sorry?' Dorian asked, incredulous. He almost laughed. 'What are _you_ sorry for?'

'I haven't been myself since Adamant,' Lavelland said. 'And I know that's worried you.'

It was true, but Dorian hadn't realised that Lavellan had worked that out. Was he that easy to read?

'I was so caught up in my guilt about Stroud, I started to lose my grip on reality,' Lavellan continued. 'I had such horrible nightmares, and it led to me using the Anchor in my sleep to try and chase ghosts.' Lavellan's arms wrapped tigher around Dorian in reflex. 'I heard you, that night. You were terrified. And I was the one causing that fear. So I'm sorry, Dorian. I'm sorry I haven't been myself. I'm sorry I scared you. And I'm sorry that you got hurt.'

'You didn't hurt me,' Dorian sniffed.

'Not physically, maybe,' Lavellan sighed. 'But that wasn't what I meant. I'm sorry I didn't get there in time. I should have followed you immediately, when I found out you had left.'

'But I didn't tell you where I'd gone,' Dorian said after a pause. 'You wouldn't have...'

'I read the letter.'

Dorian gaped at him. His first instinct was to be outraged, because that was his, and it was personal, but then he realised that if Lavellan had disappeared without a word, then Dorian wouldn't have stopped snooping until he found out exactly where he'd gone. 'You... you read it?' He thought for a moment. 'What did you think was going on?'

'What was actually going on?' Lavellan asked. 'Because I still don't think I understand completely. What was she doing to you? Why was she doing it? Why do you owe her?'

Dorian could feel him loosening his grip, and desperately he grasped Lavellan's shirt tighter, pulling him back. 'No...'

'I'm not going anywhere Dorian. But you need to talk to me. Please.'

'I...' Dorian shut his eyes, trying to block out the pain the memory brought with it. But this was Lavellan, his amatus, the man he loved. And he did love him, Dorian realised. He'd known that for a while, but he'd been too scared to admit it. 'All right.' He took a breath, and began his story.

* * *

Dorian sprinted down the street, his cloak flapping behind him in his flight from his father's estate. No-one was _doing_ anything; Tevinter had looked at the hole in the sky and laughed. _Good luck, southerners,_ Tevinter had thought. _That's not our problem._

But it was.

Dorian skidded to a halt, trying to get his bearings. He needed to get out of Minrathous, but he was sure all the gates were watched. No doubt Magister Pavus had sent messengers to all the guards two days ago, when Dorian had begun to express his interest in leaving for the south. He could hear his pursuers in the distance; guards had followed him on his mad dash through the city, and would most likely drag him back kicking and screaming. He needed somewhere to hide.

After leaping two garden walls, he found himself on the grounds of a large estate, greenery spreading out into the darkness, seemingly for miles. He could try and get lost in the gardens? But that would mean a lot of crawling around in the dark and the wet, which didn't particularly appeal to Dorian. Guiltily, he glanced at the grand house, unable to quite believe what he was thinking.

It hadn't been difficult to break in. The door unlocked after a quick enchantment, and Dorian slipped inside. He needed somewhere to hide, where hopefully even the owner of the house wouldn't sense his presence. The cellar was close by, so down Dorian went. _I hope there are no slaves down here._ They would be sure to give him away. Luckily, the cellar was deserted, and Dorian sat on a crate, panting from adrenaline.

He'd been there for maybe fifteen minutes when the door creaked open, and a thin shaft of light fell down into the dark cellar. Dorian held his breath. Light footsteps padded down the stairs, followed by maybe two more, and a slender silhouette became visible.

'Who are you?' a woman's voice asked, having spotted him in the corner. Dorian sighed, gripped his staff tightly and summoned some flames to his hand. The cellar lit up, revealing a young woman in a dressing gown, two slaves standing at a respectful distance behind her. Her black hair tumbled down her shoulders in curls, and her eyes were a startling pale blue.

'My name is Dorian,' Dorian sighed. 'I'm sorry to barge in like this. I understand this is highly inappropriate, but I just needed somewhere to hide for a moment.' She was staring at him with the same wonder in her eyes that appeared when most women looked at him. _I know, I'm very pretty._ Dorian didn't roll his eyes; it would be impolite. _I'm sorry, my dear. You're not my type._

'I am Raphaela, Raphaela Senopianus,' she gushed, smiling shyly at him. 'I'm Magister Tilani's apprentice. You're in his house.'

 _Of course I am._ Dorian couldn't stop the groan from escaping. She watched him closely. 'Do you... Need help?' She asked quietly.

'Well, I need to get out of the city undetected,' Dorian laughed, skeptical. 'But that's obviously not going to happen.'

'It might,' she smiled suddenly, her eyes lighting up at the chance to impress him. 'House Tilani built this estate over some tunnels that lead right out of Minrathous. It's maybe an hour and a half walk.'

Dorian looked up at her, amazed and suspicious. 'He has a secret tunnel?'

Raphaela nodded. She turned to the nearest slave. 'Lead Lord Dorian out of the city, girl.'

The elf had bobbed a respectful curtsy, her eyes fixed on the floor. 'Yes, mistress.'

And so, Dorian was now following an elf down a tunnel, revealed when Raphaela had removed a panel in the cellar wall. He'd thanked her, and without thinking had said the words, 'I will find a way to repay you.' He'd said it to be polite, but her eyes had been suspiciously bright.

'Will I see you again?' Raphaela had asked in a breathy voice, and Dorian had smiled kindly.

'I do not know, my dear. But I am grateful for your help.'

The elf did not speak, leading the way with only a candle to guide them. Her blonde hair was tied back into a bun, and the collar on her neck clinked gently as she walked. Dorian was not claustrophobic, but being in this cramped space for almost half an hour had put him on edge. He was taller than the slave, after all, and had to stoop in order to not hit his head on the low ceiling.

'Could you please go faster?' Dorian had finally sighed, exasperated. 'Or better yet, stop for a moment so I might rest? All this crouching whilst walking is giving me cramp.'

'O-of course, altus,' the elf stammered, suddenly alarmed, stopping dead in her tracks. 'Please forgive me, I should have seen to your discomfort earlier.' She bowed her head. 'I am not worthy of the honor of guiding you.'

'There now, that's enough of that,' Dorian said uncomfortably. 'I just need to properly stretch, that's all.'

'Would you like me to massage your back, altus?' she asked, eager to please. 'Or I could rub your feet? How may I serve?'

'No, it's quite all right,' Dorian tried not to laugh at her suggestions. 'I just want to rest for a moment, and then I want to get out of the city.'

'Of course, altus.' She kept her gaze lowered respectfully. 'Forgive me for my foolish suggestions.'

The rest of the journey was done in silence, with the elf checking every now and again to see whether Dorian was uncomfortable. He stopped complaining of the cramp, deciding it wasn't worth upsetting her, and after an hour and a half more of walking, they had reached a large gate.

'I must get back, altus,' the elf said anxiously, opening the gate for him. 'The young mistress will be so angry with me for taking so long.'

'You mean Raphaela?' Dorian asked, and the elf nodded. Her eyes immediately became wide and panicked, but she still didn't meet his gaze.

'Please, altus, forgive me! I did not mean to speak ill of my betters. It was not my intent.'

'You didn't,' Dorian assured her, and she almost relaxed. If Raphaela has a temper, then this girl will most likely be beaten, he thought. But what could he do about it? He couldn't drag this elf all the way to the Inquisition's door, could he? 'Well,' he said awkwardly. 'You had better get back then.'

'Maker watch over you, altus,' she bowed low to him, closing the gate behind her.

* * *

'I only saw that elf once more,' Dorian sighed. 'I had just reached the Tevinter border, but before you get there you need to go past the Pits. It's where they...' He closed his eyes, and swallowed to compose himself. 'It's where they dump the bodies of dead slaves. She was there, one of the fresher bodies on the heap.'

'Raphaela killed her?' Lavellan's voice was quiet.

'It would seem so. And I wasn't even surprised.' Dorian opened his eyes slowly, feeling the steady beat of Lavellan's heart against his forehead. 'I didn't even know her name.'

Lavellan was silent for a long time, and Dorian prepared himself for rebukes, angry tirades, for Lavellan to push him away and leave the room. He gripped Lavellan's shirt so tight that it hurt. _Please don't go._

Then the elf said something he hadn't expected at all. ' _Ar lath,_ Dorian.'

 _You love me?_ Dorian looked up, staring at Lavellan's face in disbelief. 'How could you possibly...?' he choked. 'After what I just told you... After what I said... After what I did...?'

'I know you're not ready to hear it, Dorian,' Lavellan sighed. 'But how could I not love you? After everything we've survived together, you're almost the only thing that's kept me sane. I probably would have given up a long time ago if not for you.'

Dorian was speechless. After keeping things from him, after making him almost go out of his mind with worry, after leaving without saying a word, after telling him how he had abandoned an elven slave to her fate... Lavellan still loved him? How long had he loved him? Dorian tried to cast his mind back to the first time Lavellan had said those words. He'd never been able to say them back. But Lavellan was still giving him a chance?

Mustering his charm and turning it into a shaky smile, Dorian said, 'Well, I am pretty amazing.'

'That you are,' Lavellan agreed, much to Dorian's relief. He planted the briefest of kisses on Dorian's forehead, and the Tevinter mage shivered at the light contact of the elf's lips on his skin. 'Now go to sleep, Dorian. You need rest.'

Dorian closed his eyes, not caring how their roles had been reversed. Normally it was him comforting Lavellan after a nightmare. But, just for tonight, Dorian had to admit that it was nice to let his walls come down and be tucked into Lavellan's arms for a change. He felt more like himself than he had in a while.


	11. Chapter 11

The change in the Inquisitor became increasingly visible over the next couple of days. His face was no longer pale and drawn, and he no longer had a haunted look in his eyes. His free and easy smile had returned, and he went out of his way to visit all of his friends and soldiers, to see how the Inquisition was holding up in the wake of the events at Adamant. None of them seemed any worse for wear after the siege, much to his relief, and everyone was glad to see the Inquisitor acting more like himself.

Sera had been particularly excited. 'Finally,' she'd said when he'd visited her. 'You look like you, and not like some mopey twit with a stick up his arse.'

'Is that what I looked like?' Lavellan had laughed, and she grinned.

'Yeah, you did. You were no fun at all. And you sound like you too, not all angry and cold, and brr,' she had shuddered, and he'd stuck his tongue out at her.

Cole had been similarly pleased. 'The ghosts are gone,' he told him, smiling. 'You no longer walk in a shadow. You're light again, bright like the sun, rippling, blazing, returned from where you were lost. I missed you.'

'Inquisitor,' Cassandra greeted the elf fondly as he approached. His clothes had grass stains, and there was a smudge of dirt on his cheek, showing that he'd just been in the garden. He walked tall and proud again, not hunched over like he was trying to avoid being looked at.

'How are you, Cassandra?' Lavellan asked with a smile.

'I am well, Inquisitor,' she smiled back. 'And how are you?'

'I'm better, thank you. Much better.'

'I am glad,' Cassandra looked at him closely. 'How is Dorian?'

'He's fine,' Lavellan stretched. 'In fact, I should probably go and check on him, make sure he's not doing anything too strenuous. He still hasn't worked all of the lightning out of his muscles, which makes him a little tense. No heavy lifting for him - not that he does much anyway.'

She made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, making Lavellan grin. 'Our Tevinter magister, doing manual labor? Perish the thought.'

'Did you get a chance to ask Hawke to sign your copy of Varric's book?' He asked, his grin widening when she flushed and avoided eye contact.

'I... might have.' She looked back up at him suddenly, her eyes shining. 'But _Fenris_ was with him! Have you read the book? Do you know how they met?'

'Fenris was an escaped slave, and Hawke helped him to kill his former master, freeing Fenris forever.'

'Yes! Isn't it romantic?' If he hadn't already known about Cassandra's love of romance, Lavellan might have laughed at the dreamy look in her eyes now.

'Yes, I suppose it is,' Lavellan smiled, and then glanced up towards the Great Hall, with the library above it. Cassandra caught the look.

'You had better get going,' she said. 'He will start to pout if you are away from him too long, and that usually leads to him whining, which is infuriating.'

The Inquisitor laughed. 'I'll talk to you later.'

* * *

Lavellan had to take a detour on his way to the library; Vivienne had caught sight of him, and had insisted that he bathed at once. 'But it's not like I smell,' Lavellan had pointed out, and she'd crinkled her nose in disgust.

'Even so, you can't go around looking like a savage who lives in the woods. You're the _Inquisitor,_ darling. _Do_ try to remember that.'

'What's wrong with living in the woods?' Lavellan had countered with a half-smile, and one perfect eyebrow had lifted slowly.

'Whilst you know I _adore_ you, dear Lavellan, your ignorance when it comes to civilized company astounds me. There could be foreign dignitaries in your hall right now, and you have just walked past them looking like a thing out of the Korcari Wilds.'

'That bad?' Lavellan had laughed, though he highly doubted it. 'All right, Madame de Fer, you win. I'll change.'

So now Lavellan was sinking into the delicious warmth of a bathtub, in the quiet and seclusion of his chambers. Closing his eyes, he felt the stress just lift off of him, and he smiled contentedly. Everything was all right. Now all he had to do was come up with a plan for how to help the Empress' troops in the Exalted Plains.

Lavellan opened his eyes at the sound of light footsteps, and Dorian appeared at the top of the stairs. 'Oh, I see,' he said primly. 'I await you in the library, and you take a break without inviting me to join?' He pouted. 'I'm the one who's hurting, you know. Just see how tense my shoulders are.'

Lavellan half closed his eyes, looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Slowly and deliberately, he leaned against the back of the bathtub. 'Are you going to complain or are you going to get in?'

Dorian was already stripping off.

* * *

'They've been stuck on the far side of the river,' Lavellan said as he massaged Dorian's back, carefully teasing the ache out of his lover's shoulders. 'And Pont Agur is in disrepair. Josephine's solution was to gather some nobles to pay for it, but as the Inquisition is low on funds, especially after the siege on Adamant Fortress, it would seem that that option is no longer available to us.'

'And let me guess,' Dorian sighed with pleasure as he relaxed back against Lavellan. 'Leliana wanted to ruin that bridge's reputation?'

Lavellan snorted a laugh, wrapping his arms around the mage and looping his fingers through Dorian's. 'Don't be ridiculous. She was the one who reminded Josephine that we have no money to bribe the nobles with.'

'Ah, of course. And what was Cullen's approach? Something involving muscles and a spectacular show of force?'

'Pretty much. Gather an army of builders and engineers, probably with another small army to defend them. "Remind them of the Inquisition's strength" or something like that.' Lavellan rolled his eyes. 'So I guess we're punching a bridge.'

Dorian laughed. 'Oh, it's not all bad. At least you get to watch the Commander work.'

' _Dorian,_ ' Lavellan gasped, pretending to be shocked and scandalized. 'You are terrible.'

'Underneath all the charm and wit, I'm a simple man, amatus.'

Lavellan laughed, and Dorian smiled. What a relief to hear that sound again. He examined his left hand closely, his fingers linked with Lavellan's, and turned his wrist so that he could see both of their palms. On Dorian's, an ugly, jagged cut that divided his flesh, but was fast healing over. On Lavellan's, branches of green stretched away from the burning scar in the centre. It would most likely never heal over or go away.

'Oh look,' Dorian said idly. 'We match.'

Lavellan's fingers tightened on his, but the elf didn't say anything.

'You still need to decide what to do with... _her,_ ' Dorian added absentmindedly, tracing the lines of the Anchor with his free fingers.

'Are you all right?' Lavellan asked, his mouth close to Dorian's ear.

'Yes. Just a bit annoyed that she's in Skyhold, even if she is in a cell.'

'Well, you're from Tevinter, so you understand their politics better than I. Would it be better to kill her or just let her rot in a cell?'

'So, you've pushed the decision onto me, then?'

'You have as much right to decide as I do, Dorian.' Lavellan stopped himself from continuing on to say _after what she did_ , because Dorian was in a fairly good mood and he didn't want to ruin that. He shifted position slightly, sending ripples along the bathtub.

'Well, I say kill her and be done with it.' Dorian said spitefully, and then actually mulled it over for a bit. 'Actually, yes. Tevinter wouldn't care if a publicly known blood mage was executed by the Inquisition, because she is everything Tevinter pretends it's not. And to directly threaten the Inquisitor? She does _not_ speak for the Imperium. So they wouldn't speak for her.'

'All right then,' Lavellan kissed Dorian's hair quickly. 'I'll tell Josephine. She can send letters to Tevinter.'

'Excellent.' Even though he'd told himself that it no longer bothered him, Dorian felt a weight lift off of his chest. But it didn't quite fix the ache in his back...

'Ah, amatus?'

'Hm?'

'Would you mind... if I asked for another massage? My shoulders are feeling a little tense again, and it's not good for my posture.'

'Pampered Tevinter,' Lavellan sniggered, but fulfilled Dorian's request, much to the pampered Tevinter's delight.

* * *

Lavellan stood outside Raphaela's cell, his shoulders back and a fierce, cold light in his eyes. Leliana and the Iron Bull stood on either side of him, the warrior hefting a great axe over his shoulder. When he'd heard about Raphaela's judgement, the Qunari had offered to kill her himself, saying it would be "symbolic" and it would piss her off right before she died.

Lavellan had thought that was a great idea.

Raphaela looked dreadful. Her hair hung in greasy clumps, and her skin was dry and dirty. Her pale blue eyes looked out at Lavellan from shadowed sockets, and she snarled at him as he folded his arms.

'Did you want something, knife ear?' She hissed, and Lavellan didn't even blink.

'Yes, actually,' he replied calmly. 'I would like to know why you came to the south. And no,' he forestalled her, as Raphaela opened her mouth. 'It wasn't just for Dorian. You didn't just want to marry him, you wanted him for something else. What was it?'

Raphaela closed her mouth again, her eyes narrowing. 'That's what you think,' she said after a pause. 'I _do_ want to marry Dorian.'

'Cute,' Iron Bull snorted. 'But a lie. I can see it; _you're_ obsessed with Dorian because you think he's attractive. And don't get me wrong, he is. But you and whoever you're working with want something.'

'Don't presume to know anything about me, _Qunari,_ ' Raphaela spat. 'I'm a _magister._ '

'Yeah,' Bull chuckled. 'You're the magister that got her ass kicked by the Inquisitor. And he didn't even need to use magic.'

Raphaela glared at him, and Leliana came forwards. 'You use blood magic,' she said bluntly. 'And you seem to have something against the Inquisition. My sources suggest you have also been associating with Venatori agents across Ferelden and Orlais. So, are you just a blood mage, or are you Venatori?'

Raphaela looked at her, and although she tried to hide her surprise she wasn't quite quick enough. Lavellan watched her, his face a mask.

'Venatori, then,' he said when Raphaela didn't reply. 'And what do they want with Dorian?'

Raphaela spat at him, and although Iron Bull and Leliana bristled, Lavellan remained still. His eyes met hers, and he could sense her searching him with her magic, probing for weakness. _Nice try._

Lavellan took a step forwards, unfolding his arms and slowly removing the glove that covered his left had. The Anchor blazed brightly, crackling with energy from the Fade, and Raphaela gasped in surprise and alarm at the sudden change in the atmosphere in the dungeons.

'Listen to me carefully,' Lavellan said, his voice soft and dangerous. 'I'm only going to say this once. I am normally a forgiving person, and I like to think every decision I make is done with justice in mind.' His eyes never left her face. 'But you hurt Dorian, and you were going to do worse if I hadn't stopped you. So this is your last chance to tell me everything you know, or else I'm going to open a rift in your cell and let the demons have you.'

Raphaela believed him.

* * *

'So,' Leliana placed her hands behind her back as she and the Inquisitor walked out of the dungeons. Iron Bull followed them, whistling a cheerful tune as he hefted his now bloody axe back over his shoulder. 'A Venatori plot to strike at the Inquisition. And using Dorian as a pawn, extracting information from him on the Inquisitor's inner circle.' She shook her head. 'We shall have to keep a closer eye on our companions.'

'Well, now that we know what they were planning,' Lavellan said. 'We will be harder to divide.'

'True,' Leliana agreed. 'I will inform my agents to keep an eye out for Venatori. No doubt we will suddenly find more of them, waiting for Raphaela to return.'

'I'll let Dorian know,' Lavellan told her. 'He'll want to hear the good news.'

'And I need a drink,' Bull announced. 'Killing Vints has brought back memories.'

* * *

Dorian was, at long last, in the library. He browsed through book titles idly as Lavellan approached, and Lavellan smiled at the sight. _Finally._ Everything was back on track and in its proper place.

'Ah,' Dorian spotted him, treating Lavellan to a charming smile. 'So, how did everything go with Cullen and that bridge in the Exalted Plains? Did he beat it into existence using the might of the Inquisition?'

'Well, I gave him the go-ahead,' Lavellan replied. 'So only time will tell.' He hesitated, and then said, 'It's done, Dorian.'

'I see.' For a moment, a mixture of grief and relief contorted his features, and then it was gone. 'How did you...?'

'Iron Bull killed her. She was outraged to see that her exectutioner was a Qunari. I told her she wasn't important enough to be killed by the Inquisitor.'

'Oh, that is glorious,' Dorian chuckled. 'I bet she was furious. I almost wish I'd been there.' But he didn't, not really, and Lavellan knew it.

'There's more,' the elf continued. 'It seems that Raphaela wanted to take you back to Tevinter because she was working with the Venatori.' He frowned. 'They've heard about us, and were hoping to use you to gain information about my inner circle, presumably to kill us all.'

Dorian let a short silence fall between them, using the few seconds it created to process this. Then he said, 'Us?'

'You and I.'

Ah. So his fears had come true. Dorian's relationship with Lavellan was a weakness to be exploited by the enemy.

Lavellan guessed some of what he was thinking, or had seen it in his face, because he said, 'Don't worry, Dorian. I'll protect you.'

Dorian barked a laugh. 'Why do you have to be the hero all the time?'

'Because I'm the Maker's chosen?'

'Yes yes, you're so very special,' Dorian rolled his eyes. 'But what I meant was, why can't I protect you? Why must you always be in trouble?'

'Because I'm the dread Inquisitor, and trouble always seems to find me.' Lavellan smiled at him. 'And then, when I'm in trouble, I have you to get me out again.'

'Hmph. You think you can win me over with charm and flattery?'

'Yes.'

Dorian cast his eyes heavenward in mock despair. 'It's like you know me.'

Lavellan stepped closer, his green eyes warm. 'I _do_ know you, _ma_ _vhenan_.'

Dorian met his gaze, green on grey, and was filled with a sense of want. He had to struggle to maintain his self-control; they were in a library, after all.

'What does that mean?' He asked. ' _Ma vhenan_ , that is.'

'It means pretty much the same thing as "amatus" does, I imagine.' Lavellan grinned. 'If my translation of that word is correct.'

'You know, you're going to have to teach me to speak some of the elven tongue,' Dorian smiled that dashing smile at him. 'Then I'd know what you're saying when you talk in your sleep.'

'I'd be delighted.'

'And in the meantime,' Dorian added, his voice lowering to almost a purr. 'Perhaps you can teach me some other tricks of the tongue.'

Lavellan's mischievous grin shrank into a genuine smile, one of warmth and affection. 'You think you're so smooth.'

'It doesn't matter what I say, I'll still end up getting what I want.' Dorian leaned downwards slightly, his lips meeting Lavellan's. His lover lifted a hand to cup his jaw, pulling him closer. Dorian's tongue darted out, exploring Lavellan's mouth, and the Inquisitor's lips parted for him. Dorian's hands pressed against Lavellan's back, and Lavellan's hands wound their way into Dorian's hair.

They had to stop, eventually. It was teetering towards becoming indecent for a public place. They broke apart, both panting slightly, and grinned at each other.

'Ar lath, Dorian,' Lavellan told him. 'It's all right if you can't say it yet, but I need you to hear it. I love you.'

Dorian smiled, his eyes crinkling as he beheld the most miraculous man he'd ever known. _I love you too, amatus._ He couldn't say it out loud, not yet, but admitting it to himself was a good first step. He pressed his forehead to Lavellan's. 'And so you should.'

* * *

Lavellan stood on the battlements, overlooking the valley that stretched out beyond Skyhold. The sun was slowly falling behind one of the mountains, casting orange light across the fortress that made the glass shimmer. In the distance, an eagle soared high in the cornflower blue sky, dipping in and out of the trees, enjoying the thrill of the flight. The wind was calm and steady, and Lavellan breathed it in slowly, feeling fresh and new.

Cullen, Leliana and Josephine stood behind him, ready to advise. Dorian leaned against a bit wall nearby, his eyes dancing with mirth as he looked at his amatus. Sera leaned against Iron Bull's arm, mischief in her face as she whispered something to the Qunari that made him laugh. Cassandra stood next to Varric, her arms folded, ready and waiting. The dwarf glanced at Cole, who was looking from face to face, silently reading what was written there. Vivienne, Solas and Blackwall remained at the back of the group, watching everything with a critical eye, although Vivienne's face wasn't hidden by a beard, so her small, knowing smile was visible. Solas' face was solemn, and Blackwall's was unreadable.

Lavellan could feel them all behind him, waiting for his orders. There were so many things to be getting on with; killing Venatori, investigating the Empress' troops in the Exalted Plains, checking in on the state of Crestwood, making sure the Hinterlands were cleared out, and of course the ball that was being held at the Winter Palace. And they still needed to find Corypheus.

 _One step at a time, da'len,_ Keeper Istimaethoriel's voice came to him. He smiled, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face.

'All right,' Lavellan turned to face his friends, his eyes glittering in excitement at the thought of the challenge. They all looked up at their Inquisitior, and not one of them seemed to be afraid. Dorian nodded to him, a knowing smile on his lips. They were ready, ready to fight Corypheus. And they'd do it together.

Inquisitor Luvian Lavellan smiled.

'Here's the plan.'

* * *

 _Author's Note: Thank you so much to everyone who has read this story from beginning to end. This was my first fanfic, and your support is appreciated. I was planning on writing a prequel, but I'm not sure. Let me know if you think I should. Thank you again! - StrutLikeLucifer_


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